


Broadway

by Shatterpath



Category: Original Work
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-06-16
Updated: 2012-04-16
Packaged: 2017-11-03 18:58:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 49,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/384763
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shatterpath/pseuds/Shatterpath
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A personal favor turns fascinating for the big cat…</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Rating: PG-13 to NC17. I cover the whole damn spectrum in this one!
> 
> Category: The continuing saga of Dace and pack's adventures. Takes place in the summer of 2004 in a land far, far away
> 
> Pairings: Dace/Catherine. And Dace gets a new playmate.
> 
> General Disclaimer: This story contains stories between mature, consenting adult females. All characters are borrowed without permission, but without the intent of infringement. Previously unrecognized characters and places, and this story, are copyrighted to the author. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author. All TV show disclaimers are in earlier parts of this saga.
> 
> Spoilers: Nothing specific, except for the several characters from earlier sections of Light, Water and Muses, and aspects of their characters and backgrounds were established there.
> 
> Note from the author: Because of the dangers of Real Person Fic, this tale has been rewritten. Squint a bit and you might be able to figure who the Broadway characters are.

++ Dace ++

 

(6-16-04)

 

Fenris isn't prone to bouts of humorous perversity, but this is a good one. 

 

Nor does she ask for help with special clients very often, particularly from another royal card among the Four Suits. Yet, here I am, astride her old 42 Harley-Davidson WLA, lovingly restored to pristine World War II condition. I feel like I should be wearing khakis and have a big gun in the rifle holster bolted to the front wheel assembly. Behind me rumbles Fen's white 2000 Road King in the capable hands of my sidekick for this trip astride the big machine… and Sofia is a natural. Decked out in a simpler version of my well-loved leathers, big mirrored aviator's sunglasses and with that mane of long ash-blonde hair loose in the breeze of our passage, she's damn hot astride the big cycle. With my far paler and messily cut mop of shortish blonde hair in contrast, we make quite a sight.

 

So, yeah, we're creating the occasional stir as we tool about the Big Apple, killing some time so that we can make a fashionably late entrance to our meet. See, Fen's got an actor buddy who, as the story goes, found out about the shadow business of the Swords. Seems his lovely wife, currently starring in the most popular show on Broadway, is real curious about what we do.

 

The twist in the tale?

 

Fen don't do boys.

 

I couldn't give a crap less and she knows it. So if hubby wants to jump in, he can ask and we'll negotiate from there. That and I do the 'bad boy' persona in leather, chrome and stalking danger as opposed to Fen's slick, urbanite, wolf-on-the-prowl energy.

 

So, here I am, feeling like a slab of salmon in a steam oven, sweltering in the cloying late afternoon damp of the east coast. At a red light, Sofia idles the Road King up beside me, resting heavy leather boots on the steamy asphalt. "It's not the heat," she chuckles and I echo the sound before finishing the thought.

 

"It's the humidity."

 

A pair of tourists, probably from the Midwest by their clothes, goggle at us through the windows of their cab and I grin flirtatiously and blow them a kiss. They are completely torn between amusement and shocked horror at my cheekiness. Glancing over her shoulder at them, Sofia throws her head back and laughs uproariously. 

 

As the opposing light flicks to yellow, I gun up the WLA's engine, echoed quickly by the Road King, and the roar reverberates off of the stone and glass canyons of this vast metropolis. The tourists' eyes are as big as saucers at the racket, even as we very peacefully ease into the green light to continue on our way.

 

We're still laughing like hyenas well down 6th Avenue.

 

A glance at my watch reveals that the time is rapidly creeping past fashionable and towards rude. Whoops, time to stop screwing around. Luckily, we're not far from Greenwich Village and the very exclusive and very private club where we're meeting my client. A couple of twists and turns lead us to an elaborate sign reading 'Bubba's'. One of the things Fen… oops, I guess I need to get back into the habit of calling her Michael again. Stupid multiple nicknames… One of the things Michael liked so much about this place that she bought it years ago, is the comb-teeth white lines at the curb and the signs reading, 'motorcycles only'. Strategically placed iron poles packed with dense concrete make certain that the cars obey. So I nose the WLA's front wheel between two poles, the Road King doing the same beside me, and toe down the kickstand before peeling off the skullcap-style helmet.

 

Sofia can't resist rumbling the engine one more time before shutting the Road King down, carefully balancing the heavy beast on its kickstand before climbing to her feet. "Remind me to thank Michael for letting me borrow this thing. God, what a fun ride."

 

"More'n than just the weather's hot," I cackle, smacking that fine ass as I stride past her, peeling off my sweat-soaked kidskin gloves.

 

It's an old 50's era diner, strategically nestled up against an old brick drugstore and a newer parking garage, giving the place character and space, the later a rare commodity in this crowded city. Better, the converted drug store offers privacy on the upper two stories. The ground floor is for anyone that wanders in, the clatter and smells typical of any greasy spoon in America. Red vinyl booths, gleaming white Formica and tiny octagon tiles in black and white underfoot completes the look. It's capped off with the long counter, backed with diamond-stamped stainless steel and fronted by red and silver stools. Waitresses in red and black checkers bustle about and I flash an admiring glance at one hottie, young, curvy and tattooed, with triple the facial piercings I sport. Her coy glance over her shoulder makes me wish that I wasn't here on business.

 

Chortling, Sofia smacks my shoulder and heads for the rear of the diner, where there is a plain red door bearing a simple brass plaque that reads 'private'. The staff doesn't enter and exit the kitchens through this door, it serves a different purpose. Playing a proper vassal, Sofia holds the door open for me. Inside is a quiet, velvet-décor reception room where a woman dressed like a spook waits behind the counter. 

 

This is the part I love and hate. Before the Sword can even react, I've whipped out the card. Only three versions of this particular model exist and they cost more than your average high-end luxury car. Nearly an eighth of an inch thick and plated in pure burnished gold, it's the dimensions of a credit card but nearly a quarter-inch thick and has the weight of solid lead. One side sports the symbols of a standard deck of cards, diamond, club and spade, carved from pure ruby and extremely rare black opal from Nevada. On the flip side, surrounded by tiny, sensitive biometric pads, is a larger ruby heart. Only my bio-signature will activate this device, my calling card to the rest of the Four Suits' empire.

 

The woman's eyes round even behind her concealing sunglasses as I pass the card over the custom reader device to activate my account, but my raised hand stalls out any move she might make. "Up the stairs, right?" I ask kindly and she nods dumbly. "C'mon Fetch, we're late."

 

The dining room upstairs is very similar to the one below, only more sprawling and a few notches classier. It's quieter here with a sparser, more diverse crowd. Mixed in with the 50s diner theme is the distinctive elongated spade symbol like rows of daggers on walls and leather-upholstered booths. 

 

Sofia taps my arm and discretely gestures with her chin. Sure enough, there's the man I've been sent to see. When I meet my sidekick's gaze again, she once again tilts her chin at the long counter and I nod slightly. With that non-conversation out of the way, I head over. 

 

This is always an odd moment for me, never knowing how a stranger will react to me. He's a good-looking bastard with a winning smile and a smooth, chocolate complexion. Dark eyes regard me curiously for a moment, flicking to the silver rod pierced beneath the distinctive scar that runs along the sharp point of my brow and into my eyebrow. The normally sun-bleached tawny hairs are sparse there and the few that grew back are translucent white. The barbell enhances the healed split in my skin like the crossbar on a 't'.

 

His gaze rounds, hope and fear flashing in the expressive gaze and I have to grin slowly. "Merlin?" I rumble the question in that voice that sends people screaming for the hills… or makes them cream their jeans.

 

For better or worse, he seems paralyzed and I let the smile warm and finally pull off the sunglasses where they've been perching negligently at the end of my nose. "Leonacouer?" he finally hedges and I chuckle low in my throat, dropping into the booth opposite him.

 

"Yes. Pleased to meet you."

 

The handshake is solid and obviously grounds him back to normalcy again, visibly shaking off the shock I've given him. Good man, good adaption skills; I like him already. The fact that he's a looker doesn't hurt. "You're, umm," he hedges, amusing me greatly, "just like Michael described. Only… more."

 

Once more I have to chuckle and lean back as a deferential waiter materializes with my drink. That's the other advantage of my cool little golden toy; it dumps all sorts of info about me into the establishment's computer, including the 4-1-1 that I've grown rather fond of Shirley Temples in my long spell away from liquor. "Have you eaten?"

 

"No, not yet."

 

The waiter has wisely waited in discreet silence an arms-reach away and I scan the menu quickly before handing it back to him. "Just a chicken Caesar salad, please. I couldn't bear anything cooked in this humidity."

 

"Yes ma'am. And for you, sir?"

 

After a moment, my companion orders a burger and the waiter melts away. "So, Michael passed on the framework of your conversations with her," I begin calmly, not surprised that he's a little reluctant and squirmy. Few people will find themselves in a position like this. "It's a bit unorthodox, not having the involved party in on the planning stages, but we've dealt with this before. I imagine she'll figure it out pretty quick if I show up with you."

 

The wry tone gets him to smile, much of his discomfort bleeding off. He grins ironically at me, at last speaking up in something that might be an actual conversation. "Yeah. She has no idea I'm even doing this, though I think she'll be less shocked than I feared. This whole thing's had her… worked up for weeks. I hardly see her with her schedule, and her costar and the male lead are leaving soon so things are more hectic than usual 'cause there's new leads coming in, who aren't the standbys." He continues to ramble, but I don't interrupt because talking is obviously relaxing him. I get the gist of what he's talking about, though some of the Broadway-specific jargon eludes me. Our food comes quickly and he grins sheepishly at me. "You really don't give a crap about all of this, do you?"

 

"It's not that," I reassure and pause for a savory mouthful of salad and chicken. "This sort of stuff gets me some basic knowledge into you two, but it's more ignorance than disinterest. I'm an ex-cop from San Francisco with unusually heightened senses that now helps to run a really weird modern sex empire. We're worlds apart, big boy."

 

That makes him laugh before he attacks his burger and I'm assured that I could like this man.

 

 

After lunch, I introduce Sofia real quick and we make a discreet exit out the back before walking around the building to the bikes.

 

"I see the leathers aren't just for show," my new pal chuckles as we girls remount and start the beasts up. Mine is a little more involved, cranking the starter pedal with all my weight.

 

"Hop on," Sofia says calmly and he gingerly takes the spare helmet she hands him. We wait patiently while he straps it to his skull and straddles the bike, tucking his larger body up against Sofia's back. "You'd better be friendlier than that, Merlin. Help me back this thing out first, though."

 

With a combined effort, their four legs get the big Road King backed into the street where I'm already holding up traffic. "I'll follow you," I yell to my companions and they nod, roaring away so that I can follow.

 

Then we're off to our real destination for the evening, creeping with the rush hour traffic back up 6th Ave the way we'd come earlier. At yet another traffic light, Merlin raises his voice over the constant din of this congested place. "There's a parking area I'll take you into."

 

"Got it."

 

I'm a little surprised to see Sofia's left blinker come on at 43rd instead of our destination down on 51st, but I trust the native guiding her and follow into the turn lane. It's a frightening challenge to drive here, my senses wanting to dial up too far to compensate for the crazy drivers. We've been lucky so far…

 

Down near Times Square, the Road King signals and pulls into a towering Hilton and I understand the plan now. Once the bikes are safely stowed in a parking spot, I jam my jacket into the Road King's contoured saddle bag, Sofia's following it quickly. The three helmets barely squeeze into the other. I'm wet with sweat and peel the blue t-shirt off to stuff one end into my back pocket. The tight black sports bra will keep me from getting arrested for indecent exposure and give me a chance to show off my ink. 

 

A quick pass of the corporate card through the reader has us on our way. Anyone stupid enough to mess with the two vehicles is in for a nasty surprise with the fancy security packages discretely built into both. "Lead the way, Merlin," I chortle as we make our way into the muggy evening again. 

 

There's no point in talking on the crowded street, choked with gawking tourists and hurried natives, the noise and smog as thick as the heat. Honestly, this place really is too damn much for my senses and I clamp down tightly on my inner cat, reaching out with that place inside me to feel the distant brush of Catherine's soul against mine. Distracted, I barely note the urban glory of famous Broadway, intent on following Merlin's naked dark head through the crowds. 

 

Eventually, he hangs a left, Sofia actually having to reach out and grab the hip strap of my chaps to get me back on course. This street is a bit quieter and I breathe a relieved sigh. "You okay?" Sofia asks in concern, running quick fingers through my shaggy mane to fluff up the wet golden strands.

 

"Are we there yet?" I whine childishly, earning a laugh from my companions and Merlin nods and points.

 

It looks like every other modern skyscraper in this forest of concrete and steel and glass, only with no windows on the lowest couple hundred feet. A towering, minimalist black signboard proclaims it as the Hirschman Theater and displays the current play beneath. The entryway is cooler as Merlin steps away to speak with a uniformed employee as we hang out.

 

"I suppose we should have ditched the chaps," Sofia teases wryly, once more attacking my wild hair, scraping it back so that air can cool my scalp. I could hug the woman, but we're being waved over to a door by a grinning Merlin. Inside is blissfully air-conditioned, a shock to my overheated skin and we make our way to escalators that whisk us up to a dimly lit lobby.

 

The theater beyond the lobby is massive, a veritable sea of padded chairs sitting forlornly empty until this evening. We walk silently down the red carpet runway towards the orchestra pit and the brightly-lit stage. There are a double handful of people there in all manner of casual clothes from ripped, baggy jeans to leotards in some odd state of controlled disarray. 

 

Sensing my fascination at this new slice of life, Merlin pauses at the edge of where the stage lights bleed into the dim seating area. It looks like some kind of ancient Greek temple superimposed over a map and small villages. Like a preview of the play in pictures and shapes.

 

"You haven't seen it, have you?" he asks softly and both Sofia and I shake our heads slowly.

 

"Shows really aren't my cup of tea," I tell him honestly and smile wryly. "And Vegas is notorious for going over the top. Maybe this sort of thing will be more to my liking. After all this show is popular for a reason."

 

His chuckle is lost in a shout for attention and a slender man starts ordering the milling crowd around like a haranguing general. That's obviously our cue to move on, because Merlin's skirting the edge of the stage and headed for a door I'd only noted subconsciously. 

 

Now, I've been backstage for a lot of big events as a Diamond, as a Heart and as a cop. But this is an anthill of activity in some places and a dimly lit warren of congested stillness in others. There are a couple glimpses of cavernous spaces crowded with machinery and incomprehensible set pieces as we move through cable-choked walkways. One semi-recognizable object catches my eye and I pause with a chuckle, gesturing to draw Sofia's gaze. It's an enormous pair of jewel-toned eyes that shimmer every color even in this crappy light. Draped in gauzy cloth makes them seem surreal. "I think I get it," she says with a grin. "That must be the gods manifesting, right?"

 

"Ignore that man behind the curtain," I intone ponderously and we giggle like little girls and rush to catch up with our retreating guide. 

 

"How the hell do you people do this without getting killed?" Sofia grumbles as she stumbles and crashes into my back.

 

"Practice," he sasses back as the muffled strains of music and voices swells from where we just came from. Even I would have trouble backtracking my way out of this maze by the time Merlin grabs a distracted guy wearing a headset-mike combo and asks him, "You seen Lee yet?"

 

"Nah. Shouldn't be long now though. But if you see her before I do, tell her Joe's actually in a decent mood."

 

"Small favors. I'll see if I can't help get things moving. Traffic's a bitch tonight."

 

The men share a commiserating glance and the stranger looks quizzically at Sofia and me for a moment before moving off. I've deliberately kept my head down and my Sentinel chemistry damped as much as possible here. I don't want to be memorable to these people.

 

The road to hell is paved with good intentions.

 

It happens quickly, in a claustrophobic hall crowded with all manner of storage and oddball junk that Merlin slips through like a rat in a sewer. When we get to a half-hidden door, we suddenly realize that we've lost Sofia, though I can hear her calling my name nearby. "Wait here, I'll get her," Merlin tells me in exasperated amusement and I shrug in agreement.

 

There's a gift of coincidence among the Sentinels, the ability to be in the right place at the right time to get involved in our natural roles as the protectors of humanity. My ability seems more finally honed than the others, followed closely by Zo, and it strikes again in the short moments where I stand alone in a crowded and poorly lit back hallway of the Hirschman Theater.

 

Female voices are approaching the other side of the heavy door; I can hear them with my animal-sharp ears, their tones reflecting high spirits. There's nowhere for me to retreat to and the door snaps open with a suddenness I'm not expecting, making me jump. Several things happen in rapid succession as a very small woman barrels right into me, leaping back with a surprised squeal.

 

She collides with a battered and chipped wooden cabinet and it teeters precariously for a moment. With absolute clarity, I can tell that the object is coming down and it's moving like it's top-heavy. Since the damn thing could be empty or packed with lead canon shot for all I know, I decide that safe is better than sorry.

 

Every time the rush of my feral heritage sweeps over me, it's a thrill that never lessens. The world slows and becomes crystal clear, my very own personal slow-motion high definition TV. The crystal blue eyes of the small woman, who I abruptly recognize, round in surprise as I effortlessly sidestep the falling cabinet and the shower of smaller objects on its top and pulled loose by its fall. Hooking the scarred right arm around her neck and shoulder blades, I twist like a dancer, my weight slamming the door shut and the cabinet slices through empty air to smash spectacularly into the stacked objects where I had just been standing. It sets off a chain of reaction and I huddle my body protectively over the small woman's, ignoring smaller debris as it pings off of me.

 

As the rush of power fades a bit, I realize that my prey is struggling and wrestle down cougar instincts. Her annoyance and shock vanishes as her blue eyes meet mine and she stills with instincts no one in this modern world really understands any more. She's a pretty woman, with good looks that are a mix of sexy and adorable. This close she's even tinier than I'd have believed; only reaching about the hollow of my throat.

 

Then the squirming registers and my eyes drop to the small fluffy white dog in her arms. I can't wrestle down the threatened growl that rumbles up from deep in my body and soul.

 

Oh sure, I understand that the cat I see in my mind is merely an icon representation of what my throwback genetic heritage can do, but she's very, very real to me. As real as love or faith, she crouches and bears white teeth, hissing at the tiny dog, who visibly blanches. Both dog and owner squeak in fear, shocking me out of my animal reaction.

 

"God, sorry," I fumble gracelessly as I wrap both hands around her shoulders to set her away from me as much as possible in the suddenly confined space. 

 

On the other side of the door, a woman's voice says quite clearly, "What the fuck was that? Reg? Are you okay? Reg?"

 

By now, Merlin and Sofia have come rushing down the hallway that now resembles a deadly mine cave-in. "Are you guys okay?" he calls over the top of the shoulder-deep tangle of crap. "Reg? Is that you?"

 

"Jaye?" The small woman finally seems to be weakly breaking away from the paralysis I cause in some people. "Yeah, I'm not hurt, but I think we're trapped. Dammit Lee! Stop trying to open the door! There's no space!" The sudden strident irritation surprises me and earns a reluctant grin. The look she fires me is sharp and a bit confrontational, bringing up the urge to smooth her ruffled feathers.

 

"Friend of Jaye's," I tell her quietly. "Well, friend of a friend anyway."

 

"Can you get the door open far enough for us to slip out?"

 

Eyeing the space, I push experimentally at the debris to gain a few inches and nod. Together, Reg and I wrestle with the door to inch it open enough for her to hand out the dog and her bag before slithering though the small gap.

 

"Jaye, I'm going with the girls," I holler over the mess. "We'll meet you back at the stage."

 

"Okay."

 

Grumbling and cussing at the metal bits on the door, I manage to wriggle my tall body around the barrier and practically fall onto the owners of the helping hands on the far side. Smaller bodies brace mine as I flail to stay upright with limited success, ending up on one knee. 

 

"I'm gonna have the weirdest bruises," I sigh and look down at my naked belly where the door latch has rasped my skin an annoyed pink. 

 

"Oh my god, you guys," frets another woman, not as short as Reg, but not as tall as the pair of women behind her. "Are you okay? We heard all this horrible noise."

 

Four pairs of eyes rest on me, making me uncharacteristically self-conscious. The three blondes are slender and close in coloring, in medium, small and extra small models. But it's the shy brunette that catches my eye where she hangs back half-behind the tallest blonde. Their gazes follow me as I stand to tower over the whole gaggle of them.

 

"We're fine, Lorna," Reg soothes her fretting companion, the small-sized one, before she turns her attention back to me. "The amazon here startled me and that damn wobbly cabinet finally came down when I jumped into it." The others twitter at the amazon reference. "Nice reflexes, by the way."

 

I shrug and reach behind me only to realize that my t-shirt, earlier tucked into my ass pocket, is now gone. "Damn. I lost my shirt somewhere."

 

"Nice ink," the tallest admires and shifts the little dog to her left hand to offer her right. "Janice Laura Thomas."

 

Taking the offered hand, I smile gratefully at her. "Dace Bogart. I'm a friend of a friend of Jaye's. We got separated before the cave-in."

 

There are snickers and I see that the brunette's eyes have gone wide in shock. Yep, she's figured out who I am now. Sucks that the pleasure of this first meeting has been soured by the weird circumstances. Oh well, go with the punches, Bogart. The fretting blonde is introduced as Lorna Mae Malloy and my rusty memory is refreshed with Reg's full name of Regina Danowitz. Before anyone can introduce their shy pal, I hold up a hand to stop them, earning a chorus of mildly surprised looks.

 

The hand I offer is taken by the striking brunette and I make a mental note to thank Michael for the phone call that has brought me here. "You're who I came to see," I purr gently, trying to put her at ease. When she flushes prettily in the dim hallway, I swallow a smile and gesture back down this new hallway. "Umm, you ladies know where you're going, not me."

 

It's only a dozen steps to a door that dumps out into a loading dock that is flooded with indirect sunlight. "Damn nice ink," Janice crows, grabbing my right hand to admire the tapestry of foliage tattooed in my skin from wrist to elbow. It's a solid wash of intricate colors, only narrow stripes of skin on the top and bottom of my forearm left bare, between the parallel surgical scars that run the length of my forearm. The scars are still deep, stiff furrows, but at least the shattered bone beneath has grown solid after its trauma from two and half years ago. Janice's eyes go to the scar at my temple, the question in her gaze.

 

"Table leg," I smile, liking her matter-of-fact energy. All four woman gasp in almost comical horror and I can't swallow my grin.

 

"You're a friend of a friend of Jaye's; have ink on you like a novel and a set of scars like a war veteran from a table leg?" Lorna goggles a moment before shooting the brunette an admiring look. "You have the coolest friends."

 

So, that adopts me into the gaggle of curious and mostly friendly actresses. I'm carried along in the wake of their high energy, a bit bewildered at how all this came to be, but not really all that surprised. The guy guarding at the door only checks ID on Janice, giving me a hardened 'skeptical bouncer' stare that I wisely don't take offense at. The chatty blondes defend me, dragging me past the disapproving guard. "No one really knows me yet," Janice explains as the other three pick up speed, feeling the energy of the theater sucking them in. "I'm the new kid." The questioning look on my face makes her chuckle. "Regina's leaving in just about a month." Grabbing the trailing edges of an imaginary skirt, she sketches a perfect curtsy and I laugh and clap. "I'm Gabby, mark two."

 

Still chuckling at my new pal, I'm led back into the seating area of the theater and up to the front by the orchestra pit. The haranguing man has turned on my new pals, who cringe and get to work. That's where Sofia and Jaye find us and flop down. "So," Sofia leans over and purrs in my ear, "you like her?"

 

"Dunno yet," I grin naughtily and watch the chaos onstage. "But she's shy, yet obviously curious. I like that combo."

 

We snicker like horny dogs together and hunker down in our seats shoulder to shoulder. When I met Sofia as a CSI all that time ago, she'd been cool enough, but earning her gold shield and the much anticipated title of detective has made her irresistible. My family/pack had gone quickly from three to four and I adore her now as much as my mate and my sweet little submissive Sara.

 

Thanks to my niece's love of this play, I'm dimly familiar with the music, picking out bits and pieces of tunes. There are snippets of song ranging from pathos to vaudevillian as we sit here, but most of it is fractured sound as actors and orchestra start the painstaking process of warming up. I can barely understand what hard work this must be, both physically and mentally. Sure earns my respect though.

 

"You staying?" Janice suddenly asks me and I grin.

 

"Can't. Gotta get back to the wife and kids." Firing a wry glance down at my chest, I grin at her. "I need to be milked."

 

Instantly, she's all smiles. "Oh! How old?"

 

"Thirteen and a half months."

 

Yep, my reading of her scent is dead-on as her expression goes sappy. "Mine's just 6 months. He's with his dad at home."

 

We do the obligatory showing of pictures and I admire her fresh-faced little red-head and she is impressed with my tow-headed triplets. 

 

"They could come here. The show doesn't start for another," she pauses and checks her watch, "hour and fifteen. Unless they're out in… oh, I dunno, Peekskill or something, they can get here. We'll take care of you, right Jaye?"

 

Her raised volume makes him grin in the dimness from the other side of Sofia. "We only get you for a couple days. Hate to miss out on any fun."

 

That makes me chuckle, as the new Gabrielle has no idea why I'm really here.

 

 

 

The bikes! ( <http://auto.howstuffworks.com/1942-harley-davidson-wla-and-xa.htm> or better <http://www.vintagebike.co.uk/Bike%20Directories/Harley%20Davidson%20Bikes/pages/Harley-Davidson-WLA.htm> ) and the 2000 Harley-Davidson Road King (<http://rides.webshots.com/photo/2476755760099695032gkgTTf> ) 

 


	2. Chapter 2

In the end, I rent a room at the Hilton where Sofia and I can crash out for awhile. I've got a new phone number under 'Merlin' in my custom, abhorrently expensive phone to coordinate for a later rendezvous. 

 

My nap is interrupted by a sharp rap on the door, wearily rousing me where I'm sprawled against Sofia's back. Groaning, I slump over to the door, catching the beloved scents of the people beyond. So I let them in, smiling sleepily at the happy squeals of my twin daughters. Olivia holds up one, Catherine the other, and I can gather all four of them to my body for a big hug. "I've missed you guys!"

 

My kittens babble at me, grasping at the lycra of my sports bra and my ragged mane. I plant a kiss on a grinning Cath and steal Katie from her, then scoop up Sandy as well. "How'd the meet go?" Liv asks as we drift into the room, Sofia groaning and muttering when I imperiously shove her out of the way. It takes some wriggling to get the hungry leeches off me long enough to strip off the top and let them eat, relieving the pressure that's been bugging me for hours. Though it's nothing like when I was their sole source of nourishment, thank god.

 

Indulgent and familiar with the ritual of my quiet enjoyment of my girls, Liv and Cath don't pressure me to speak for a few minutes. I know Jimmy's with his new mom, Liv's other half. His relationship is more with his sisters than me now. It wasn't an easy decision to hand off his care to another, no matter how close I am to his new moms. But he will forever be overshadowed by his sisters and that's not fair to him. With Liv and Alex, he will be the center of their lives, exactly as it should be. 

 

For the girls share my heritage as Sentinels. 

 

Shaking off my fatigue with decades of practice, this awake during daylight thing sucks, I grin at Catherine and Olivia. "Met Merlin, real nice guy. Took us over to the theater where the Chaos Monster factor took over again." Both women wince, knowing the situations that I often find myself in. "Scared the crap out of Regina Danowitz, for fuck sake, who managed to knock over enough backstage crap to nearly bury us both alive. Scared her little dog too." Resisting the perverse urge to cackle like Margaret Hamilton as the Wicked Witch of the West, I carry on. "Managed to get out of the mess and met not one, not two, but three frickin' Gabbys. Nice women, by the way."

 

"The client?" Catherine prods me with amusement.

 

"Oh, code name Mad Madame Mim figured out who I was alright. Couldn't look me in the eye; much less actually speak with me."

 

"And here I thought you liked your girls shy and demure," Liv teases and I stick my tongue out at her.

 

"Well sure, but only if I can reward them. She's probably second-guessing herself and gettin' all tweaked out. Real bummer too, 'cause she's just my type. Reminds me of Sara."

 

That makes them both laugh quietly and I pause to admire my kids where they knead at my upper chest like the kittens they are. I really don't know if my chance to help out Michael and perhaps the shy brunette starring in the biggest role on Broadway has flown.

 

As though conjured by my thoughts, the chunky phone buzzes urgently on the bed stand. The text message makes me grin ferally.

 

From: Merlin

Are u coming back?

 

Guess that answers that question!

 

 

The relationship between a Sentinel and their Guide is an intimacy that so very few can understand. One person, destined to save us from the enhanced senses and animal traits that can and have driven us insane. Not just that, but the effect we have on the rest of humanity and their buried genetic memories of my kind. The Guide is the bridge between us and everyone else when things get too intense or scary. Catherine is my anchor, my heart, my soul. Without her, I would be adrift, helpless and hopeless, not to mention a real danger to everyone around me.

 

Reaching up, I unconsciously trace the scar on my forehead, remembering Snake-eyes' maddened red gaze as he tried to kill me.

 

We've seen what a rogue Sentinel can do.

 

No one wants a repeat.

 

All Sentinel and Guide pairs are same sex in a biological imperative to prevent inbreeding. The triplets' fathers are Sentinel and Guide, but of a distant line to mine, obviously. Catherine's pre-teen daughter is a Sentinel, bonded to a native of this very city. The complicated and nearly hidden web of us is slowly spreading to do what we are literally born to do.

 

For a Sentinel can no more ignore the urge to protect others than stop breathing.

 

"Dace?"

 

Cath's voice drags me from my ruminations and I look into her sky blue eyes and settle once more into my own mind and skin. "Just musing over the nature of things. The women I met today reminded me of what kind of reactions I get around unsuspecting strangers when I go all cat on them. Two reacted, and oddly, two didn't. Normally I don't get halfsies. Though I might have unnerved Lorna a bit and that's why she was so rambly and ditzy. Yeah, that could be it."

 

"Well, you'll have a chance to find out. It's nearly ten fifteen. We should get moving if we're going to meet Merlin."

 

"Shit, you're right."

 

Liv's already up and has Sandy changed and ready to go, Katie kicking at Sofia's belly on the other bed. Laughing at the game, the more extroverted of my daughters is enjoying tormenting my half-asleep sidekick, who growls and makes the child squeal with laughter. Luckily, the girls are young enough to be okay without their Guide, left behind in Las Vegas while we're visiting here. 

 

"Where's your shirt?"

 

The unexpected question from the swarthy ex-New York detective makes me laugh. "I lost it in the landslide. It had been in my back pocket. Maybe I'll buy one at the theater and give Fawn a thrill."

 

We chuckle at the thought of our prima donna adopted niece. A sharp crack of my practiced hand on Sofia's ass gets her moving and we're on the street within minutes. 

 

Now, I am a child of Los Angles and an adult of San Francisco and now inhabit the fastest growing city in America, but this metropolis is like nothing else on earth. The crowds are no thinner beneath the dark skies, the noise and smells not lessened at all. They might actually be even worse, actually. "Do you miss it?" I unexpectedly find myself asking Olivia where she walks beside me, holding Sandy to her body.

 

"Sure I do," she shrugs and grins at me. "But I like my new life. This place really isn't home anymore."

 

Katie flails to go to her other mom and I hand her over, once more admiring the child's platinum to Cath's rich golden, faintly reddish, mane. The babies ogle the bright lights, squealing and making nonsense syllables. Since they're occupied, I hang back to grab a still-yawning Sofia in a headlock that makes her squeak.

 

At the Hirschman, disarmingly quiet at this hour, a small gaggle of adoring fans has pinned Jaye and I feel bad for the guy. "Fetch, can you go, well, fetch?"

 

Grumbling at the many uses of her play name, Sofia nonetheless heads over to rescue the actor. As she's not distinctive in the glaringly obvious way I am, the tactic works. With a silent gesture of mostly eyes, he sends us into the main entryway where we are discreetly allowed in. 

 

I can hear the ruckus of the play in not just my ears, but reverberating through my bones and muscles too. The twins have gone owl-eyed, their heads swiveling in perfect tandem to the banks of closed doors that separate us from the crowd within, tracking the rise and fall of the sounds within. 

 

"Damn," Jaye marvels, "they're sensitive."

 

"Meet the mini-me twins," I introduce. "Katie and Sandy. Jimmy's off with his new mom. Long story."

 

"They're gorgeous. Come on, there's a weird roundabout way backstage, but it’s quite a trek."

 

He's not exaggerating. Even as we're winding our way through the catacombs, a soaring pair of voices carries a tune of loss, the chorus and orchestra swelling into a shattering crescendo that leads to the roar of an audience well pleased. We end up skirting right past the orchestra actually, where the girls are absolutely fascinated with the noise bleeding in from above, as well as the nearby chorus of instruments. Jaye grabs my arm as we hustle to stay ahead of the chaos that will pour into backstage in mere moments. "I'm going to drop you off at her dressing room. I'll take care of your posse here, deal?"

 

"Deal!"

 

In the end, I'm handed off to a harried stage hand and actually miss my client's retreat to get cleaned up. Too bad, because that elaborate makeup job has to be fascinating as hell. Luckily for me and my continued avoidance of security, Lorna finds me and beams with pleasure. "Hey! You came back. And still shirtless I see. Hang on, Jan asked me to give you something."

 

I can't contain my laughter as she quickly returns with a gray t-shirt, emblazoned with the distinctive font of the play's title across the chest and the silhouette of two figures on horseback beneath the crossed chakram and scroll. "Love it! Though I look like a fangirl now."

 

"You're here to see Elina, right?"

 

Ah, it seems I may have misjudged Lorna as a ditz after all. "Yeah. Jaye was supposed to introduce us, but he's off with my family and kids somewhere." Curiosity flares behind the cerulean eyes, but she doesn't ask, for which I'm grateful, just shrugging with a grin.

 

"I'll wait with you then, but you have to promise I can meet your kids. Bet they're lookers."

 

"Oh quite!"

 

A parade of costumed actors troops past me, no one giving me so much as a glance. Mixed in are crew members dressed in ratty casual clothes, looking harried and overheated. 

 

"You people really have the weirdest job," I muse mostly to myself and get a trill of laughter from Lorna. The strangeness is only magnified by a midriff-baring burgundy and green confection of a clingy and brief costume that I take a moment to realize is occupied by the miniature Regina Danowitz.

 

"Hey there!" She greets me cheerfully, obviously not pissed about the surprise attack from earlier. "We were hoping that you'd come back. And I see that you have a new shirt!"

 

"You look amazing," I shrug, a little overwhelmed with the theatricality of all of this. "Hey, if you get changed, you can meet my twins. I brought them to be slobbered over."

 

It works to deflect attention away from me and she flounces off with a happy squeal. Good, I can concentrate again without the yummy skin-baring distraction of that costume and whatever is glittering on her skin. 

 

I'm beginning to wonder how bloody long a shower and change of clothes takes when Lorna grins sympathetically. "The body makeup takes some effort to get off."

 

Oh, duh. 

 

Now, I haven't seen Xena the musical, nor had any overly burning need to do so, until maybe today. Frankly, Jane and Mel might just kill me for even being here. But one has to live under a rock at the bottom of the ocean on Mars to not have at least a passing familiarity with the mythology of the very popular TV shows of Hercules and Xena. So, yeah, I can imagine that getting painted with fake tan over a good chunk of one's body is a pain in the ass.

 

A full twenty minutes passes before my tuned-up ears finally pick up a new sound from behind the door. In a sinuous move that startles my companion, I stand away from the wall, twist on one oak heel and park myself right in front of the closed door.

 

The familiar mantle of Leonacouer settles over me like a cloak, shifting my normally casual body language into something more focused and potentially dangerous. When the door jerks open, the striking brunette actually squeaks in shock and jumps back. Pinning her with a predatory stare, I force my will over hers, waiting until she takes another step back. Then I swivel my gaze over to Lorna, all smiles again. "When you find Jaye, could you let him know it's all good? Have a great night."

 

Before she can even respond, I step into the room and carefully shut the door.

 

Freshly scrubbed, clad in jeans and a tight t-shirt, this woman doesn't look like a diva. Her glossy dark hair is in a wet ponytail that drops out from a headrag in battered dark blue and she clutches a decrepit red duffelbag to her chest. Rich, dark green-on-brown eyes in a strong-boned, pale face watch me in terrified silence.

 

But I know her fear.

 

I've lived a life of knowing this particular fear for exactly what it is.

 

Leaning negligently against the door prevents escape and she knows it. "I'm here at great trouble and expense," I murmur softly, lowering my voice as much as I can for effect. "The Four Suits are a massive organization, but there are only eight face cards of top importance." She's curious now, but still silent. "We rank according to the deck of cards, a chunk of the country to each suit. Diamonds are the west coast, Clubs the upper middle, Spades the east, and Hearts the lower middle. Jaye's friend the Archangel Michael is the King of Spades and probably the most powerful of all of us, simply by the nature of this city. I am Leonacouer, the King of Hearts." If at all possible her eyes are even wider now, like a deer in headlights. So my voice darkens into a silky tease over ear and skin. "I can promise you some things. I can promise the utmost discretion due to your position in the public eye. I can promise to guard your safety. And I can promise to find the source of that need in your soul and body."

 

It's a battle of wills now. Will she step beyond her fear of the curiosity and need that has brought me here? Can I silently impress upon her my sincerity? After a long moment, she takes a deep, shuddering breath and her eyes start to drop, pausing on my upper chest to smirk at the familiar decal on my shirt. With the tension broken, I crook a beckoning finger, oozing sex and arrogance. Another brief hesitation stills her for a moment before she swallows and drops her hands to step into my personal space.

 

"Good girl," I purr softly, placing my hands on her wrists, soothing the tension there, pressing into pressure points that make her gasp and cause the duffelbag to fall to the floor. A breathy sound that's almost a moan echoes in her trembling breath and I smile to myself. Walking my caressing fingers up her slimly muscled arms to earn her body's trust, I keep the pressure non-threatening and soothing, only a hint of what she might experience if she just gives in completely.

 

As the calluses of my palms and fingers pass over her silky skin, Lee starts to relax, her sharpened scent easing towards calm. My enhanced senses, as sharp as any dog or hawk, are of great help in this arena of pleasure. No one can lie to me. 

 

Over the round points of her shoulders, I press harder into the tension in the heavy muscles and tendons that anchor neck to shoulders and clavicles. Now she actually moans for real and I know that I've got her. Time to reward her trust through my hands, curled and pressed lightly into her slender neck, fingertips inching into the damp mass at the back of her head. My thumbs curl around that distinctive jaw, fingertips caressing behind her ears as I tilt her skull back.

 

Modern humanity has this annoying tendency to forget simple pleasures, perhaps the most important of which is another person's touch. It's an animal instinct, buried deep in our lizard brains and the fat, smart part of our brains has an annoying habit of overriding the lizard.

 

Luckily, I'm really good with the lizard, animal parts of people's brains.

 

At this point in time, I have completely hypnotized away this new woman's intellect, soothed away her human fears and left her at the threshold of pure animal pleasure. The dark eyes are glittering slits, like a happy cat getting her belly rubbed, a sleeping puppy sprawled against her favorite packmate's body, a bird safe enough to sleep with no fear of predation.

 

Yes, a bird, with her sweeping voice, a body that is all angles and softness and a personality of steel and geeky nerves. I'll come up with some clever play name as I get to know her better.

 

The moment fades slowly, the strikingly colored eyes fluttering open and focusing on my summery blue. How I love to see the startled pleasure in the gaze of another as they discover this place inside of them. I even get the pleasant surprise of the hesitant touch of her hands on my waist in something that's almost a plea for…

 

Oh, I get it.

 

Slouching against the door a bit to bring down my height a bit, I move my hands to the back of her neck, barely tugging to give her permission. That's all she needs, collapsing into my body like she can't hold herself up for one moment longer. So I wrap my long arms around her trembling frame in an almost maternal hug and wait until she's recovered enough to give me another signal.

 

I think I understand a bit about this woman. Oh, I don't know any details like where she grew up or if she has any pets or stuff like that, but that isn't what I'm here for. My role is far more visceral and I caught her in what I realize is probably a vulnerable state anyway. I heard and felt the emotional high of that final number and that was without even being able to make out the words! Three hours of high emotion eight times a week, not to mention the physical effort, has to take its toll. Couple that with the curiosity that led to me being here and I can understand a great many things about this stranger I've silently bonded with.

 

"Is…" her soft voice cracks, making me smile a bit, "is it always like this?" 

 

"Not always," is my equally soft reply. "But I have a rare gift." That gets a huff of amusement and she leans back to meet my eyes again, her naturally curious and energetic personality reasserting itself.

 

"We haven't really been introduced, have we?"

 

I shrug and grin. "Sure we have. Just because you haven't spelled your name out and shaken my hand doesn't matter. We've connected in a much more visceral way."

 

That pleases her like a small child discovering a wonderful new texture in her hands. "We have. Thank you."

 

"You can thank me later," I chortle with a hint of a leer and she blushes prettily just as she did back in that hallway where I first met her. Then I let my voice go more serious, the playfully businesslike tone focusing her. "Now, can you put on your game face long enough to interact with the others for a bit? If I just vanish, I'll bet that will cause more questions than hovering over you, frankly. Besides, I've got kids and packmates here."

 

"You mentioned kids, I do remember that. But… packmates?"

 

"My family is unorthodox," I explain wryly and she giggles girlishly. 

 

"I bet."

 

Almost reluctantly, Lee levers herself upright, but remains close, our feet and legs tangled together. Good, she obviously is serious about testing the waters with a girl. Otherwise, her body language would still be uncomfortable. To her credit, she stays quiet; waiting for instruction from me and my natural bossiness is starting to salivate over what I can do with this natural. 

 

"So, you're a security consultant from Jaye's friend's company, right?" She smiles coyly, beating me to the punch line of all of this and I have to laugh, setting her back a step so that I can straighten up and stretch out my back.

 

"Exactly. So I'll play bodyguard and be at your heels. Lead the way, pretty girl."

 

She grins shyly as I scoop up the duffelbag and toss it over my shoulder, indicating that she's stuck with me for now. And that is how we rejoin the others, a whole gaggle of them, ironically out on the stage, fawning over my kittens. The chorus of happy greetings amuses me greatly. "Are you lot always this friendly?" I have to tease, earning a smile from Lee.

 

There are a handful of new faces, including another charmingly shy brunette, this one of obvious Hispanic decent. Several men are in the group, but I predictably don't find them nearly as interesting. So I crouch beside the Hispanic woman and caress my hand over Katie's tummy, where she's sprawled on the woman's thighs. "I see they've charmed you. I'm Dace Bogart, their mama."

 

"Eve Ramirez, your sidekick's understudy."

 

There are hoots of amusement from the actors and Lee flushes and mutters for them to shut up, causing more laughter. "More the other way around," I grin, "I mean me being the sidekick."

 

And now I've given them the opening and it's Reg that jumps in to seize it before anyone else can. "What do you do anyway?"

 

"Security consultant."

 

They're instantly alarmed, gazes swinging over to Lee where she's folding herself down beside Jaye and she freezes.

 

"No, no," I reassure the group. "There's no immediate threat, relax. Jaye and I have a mutual friend in the security business and she asked me to come in and make sure that they're as safe as possible. Really, that's it."

 

It's not entirely a lie, actually. With the popularity of the couple, anything might happen to them. So I'll watch Lee's movements for a couple, three days and make sure that she doesn't have any habits that might endanger her or require protection. In addition to the other reason I'm here, of course. 

 

"What qualifies you?" Reg says, her tone fierce and borderline confrontational. It's like getting growled at by a chihuahua and I swallow my amusement with effort.

 

"Former inspector, San Francisco PD. Now I consult with Las Vegas PD and the FBI in addition to corporate clients."

 

"Inked like that," Lorna crows where she's tickling Sandy's feet, "I can't see you as a cop."

 

"The scars under the ink are why I'm an ex-cop," I tell them quietly and the humor evaporates. Yes, I still miss it some days and yes, that reflects in my tone.

 

"Shit, I'm sorry," Lorna apologizes mournfully and I wave her off with said scarred hand.

 

"Not your fault, Lorna. I just can't fire a gun anymore, so I went private. But you can admire the two detectives over there."

 

As one entity, the actors' gazes swing over to pin Olivia and Sofia, who give me sour looks and I grin evilly at them.

 

"Women cops are hot," says a random pretty boy I don't know and he cringes from a barrage of dirty looks.

 

"Bartholomew, don't be a pig," Reg snarks at him to a chorus of giggles. "Even if you’re right."

 

Now they all dissolve into hysterics, making the twins squeal along happily. I hear a gurgling growl of hunger from Eve's midriff that even makes Katie crane her neck to see what that horrible noise was. She flushes and I laugh.

 

"Sounds like me and the packmates are keeping the lot of you from dinner."

 

I'm further amused by the chorus of disappointment as I stand, making me pause in reaching down for Katie.

 

"Well, I can't let you all starve to death. I'd get lynched by your fans or something," I complain in mock exasperation.

 

And that is how my pack and I find ourselves in a sprawling private dining room of a Italian restaurant called, predictably, Tony's, somewhere nearby with half the cast of 'Xena: the Musical'. They're a noisy, hyper bunch and the twins eat it up as they are fawned and fussed over. Only Olivia begged off, wanting to get back to Alex and Jimmy. 

 

Several of the actors are tolerantly amused at the shy begging of a busboy for a couple of autographs, sending him away happy. And my mouth gets me in trouble again. "I don't get autograph collecting," I muse without thinking and the collective gasp of outrage makes me look contrite. "No offense."

 

"If it weren't for autographs," the guy, Bartholomew I think they called him, says, "half our job would evaporate."

 

Again, they all laugh and I startle at a strange sensation of something tickling over my upper arm. To my astonishment, Eve has produced a black sharpie marker and is writing in swirling cursive on my new t-shirt.

 

The actors scream with laughter.

 

It starts an avalanche of craziness that would normally threaten me, except that I've had some time to acclimate to their manic energy. Lorna's next, leaning me forward so that she can attack my shoulder blade with the pen. Then it's Reg's turn, and she makes me stand up so that she can lean over and scrawl right across where I scraped my tummy earlier in the day. Not only do I get a flourish of an autograph, but a cartoon bandaid and a thought bubble that reads, 'my hero!'

 

Now it's Sofia and Catherine's turn to howl with amusement.

 

Even Jaye and Bartholomew get in on it and I tolerantly allow them in my personal space, glowering the latter down when he eyeballs my chest and he relents with a sheepish grin, signing my other sleeve. I'm gratified and amused when Lee takes that spot though, right across my clavicles and sternum above the decal, her smile impish. 

 

Fanning my now graffiti-covered shirt away from my torso to eyeball the lettering as best I can, I chortle, "Ebay, here I come."

 

The actors pelt me with straws and napkins.


	3. Chapter 3

(6-17-04)

 

It's a fun night, but I'm feeling my fatigue and the babies are sound asleep, with Katie drooling contentedly onto the surprisingly ample cleavage of Reg and Sandy sprawled in kittenish abandonment in Jaye's lap. Eve has dozed off leaning onto Lorna, who's barely awake herself. Sofia has been cop-talking a starry-eyed Bartholomew and Cath is just utterly entertained by the whole thing.

 

"Next time you get involved in a party like this," she teases me, pressing a quick kiss to the corner of my smile, "count me in. This has been a scream. However," the sudden raised, bossy tone jerks everyone completely awake, including me. "It's late and the babies need real sleep. Pack it in, you lot."

 

Grumbling good-naturedly, they do as they're told. There's some chaos settling the bill and we spill back onto the street. Traffic is no quieter than rush hour, the din is as loud as ever and I swear that there are actually more people out. A glance at my watch confirms that it is, indeed, one twenty-two in the morning.

 

"City that never sleeps, baby," Lorna crows as she catches my expression and resettles Eve's weight, draped half over her small frame. "C'mon E, I can't carry you."

 

I earn a squawk as I grab the waistband of Eve's jeans to help spill her into the arriving cab and a crushing hug from Lorna before she follows. Reg is eying Lee oddly, her mind working furiously over the clues to this puzzle that I've constructed so carefully. "Security consultant?" she questions me, her voice mildly confrontational again and I smile kindly.

 

"I haven't lied to you, Reg."

 

She harrumphs at the half-answer and Lee actually flushes and swallows a grin. Their chemistry is fascinating and difficult to put a name to. Jaye offers to escort Reg home, both of them hugging Lee with promises to see her tomorrow. Then this new pet is left with my pack and I, calm and trembling beneath the heavy hand I've wrapped loosely around the back of her neck.

 

With the silent understanding we've built over time, Catherine and Sofia take the next cab with the twins and I push Lee in ahead of me at the last one. "Where to?" the cabbie asks roughly and I rattle off the address of one of the Spades' hang outs. It's close to where Catherine is staying in case my fatigue adds to a potential zone-out and has a wide variety of play rooms that are hopefully available. 

 

I'm embarrassed to be woken up by gentle hands on my arm and I look around blearily. "We're here," Lee explains and I sit up to eye the meter, tossing the guy a couple twenties while pinning my charge down with a hand on her belly.

 

"Stay put for a sec," I instruct, pushing her door open and sinuously levering myself over her smaller body to plant one boot in the gutter and stand fluidly from the car's interior. Yes, I'm grandstanding, but what good are feline reflexes if I can't show off on occasion? Instincts tell me that there is no attention focused my way and reach back a hand for Lee, who takes it and allows herself to be helped from the cab.

 

Quickly stripping the now collectable and entirely too obvious shirt off, I shove it, inside out, into my waistband and once more place my scarred hand on Lee's neck to guide her. Loud club music pours in from a sprawling doorway set deeply into an entry foyer, but that's not our destination. A flash of the gold card at the bouncer gets the door open and I repeat the familiar ritual of passing the thing over the reader with my fingers on the biometric pads.

 

"I need a playroom with a full bath," I tell the Spade there, impressed that he doesn't blanch at the top of the line clearance that I know just flashed on his screen. Most players in the Four Suit's organization will never meet a King or Queen, but these kinds of high-end places are only staffed with the most unflappable and discreet of players.

 

That's why people like me come to them for privacy.

 

"Here you are, King of Hearts," the man says differentially and hands me what looks exactly like a hotel key card. "It will be room twenty-one; up the stairs to the left."

 

Without a thank you, I steer Lee to the aforementioned stairs and fish out my phone to push a well-worn speed button. "Hey you," Catherine's voice greets me warmly. "Miss me already?"

 

"Always darlin'," I flatter with no hesitation. "Could you do me a favor and send Fetch over to the Arrow with my small play bag and a change of clothes? I'm in room twenty-one. Tell her I owe her for keeping her up even later."

 

The chuckle warms me as it always does. "No problem. She'll be there soon."

 

"Thanks. Love you."

 

"Love you too. Bye."

 

At room twenty-one, I hold out the unmarked key card and wait. This move must be Lee's. This is her decision, her show. I drop my hand off of her neck to give her space to think, moving my much larger body away a bit. There is a long moment of conflict before she hesitantly takes the card and I step back even further. 

 

The door clicks satisfyingly when she slots the card and pushes her way into to the space beyond. I follow, noting with pleasure that she does not look over her shoulder, trusting my presence at her back. However, she doesn't know what to do with herself now. Not a problem.

 

After entering the room and securing the door, I grab the smaller woman's shoulder, freezing any movement with a simple instruction of, "stay." The duffelbag is tossed negligently onto the bed and we both take in the space for a moment. It looks like any hotel room, with a few notable exceptions. The black décor is one, the chain and pulley system in the ceiling another. Instead of a desk for work or a dresser for clothes, there is a table with heavy legs and eyebolts screwed in at the corners and a heavy wooden rack for S/M tools. There's a large flat-screen TV mounted on the wall, the remote control stuck to the wall beside it with heavy Velcro. I sit on the edge of the bed, her standing body close to my knees.

 

"You stand or kneel," I begin calmly, getting the businesslike part of the night out of the way. "Don't meet my eyes directly unless you want my attention for something. I will not leave any kind of noticeable mark on you, I know better than that."

 

Lee nods, discreetly eying me from beneath her lashes and I am thoroughly amused at how quiet she's been. Her breath stutters as I reach out to press both hands flat to her belly and I admire the flex of strong muscles there.

 

"Take a deep breath," I purr softly, the same voice I use to calm the kittens. "Hold it for a moment, good girl. Now let it out, nice and slow."

 

Just like that, much of her tension flows out and I'm glad to see that my best guess about her singing skills appears to be accurate. All those years of watching the Sound of Music and Disney movies are paying off. I can't sing to save my life, but I sure know how to project if I need it.

 

"I don't really know what to expect," she finally confesses softly. "I've never done anything like this before." 

 

Some time ago, I was dragged by Sofia, the closet 'Bohemia' fan, to see the traveling cast. This woman originated the role of Simone, half of the blatantly sexual girl couple of the group. My eyebrow barbell quirks up with my skeptical expression, making her giggle.

 

"Not for real."

 

Using my wrists for balance, she sinks to her knees with a groan and boldly meets my gaze. Excellent.

 

"Well, you can bet your ass that you will get the real thing from me, sweet cheeks." I leer at her briefly before growing serious. "Now, you need safewords. Doesn't matter if the play is light or heavy; safewords are your best safety net. A yellow word for slow down and a red word that puts an instant stop to everything; something obscure enough that you won't blurt it out by accident, but not so obscure that you cannot spit it out the instant you need it."

 

The busy mind behind the dark eyes turns inward. "So, something safe? Like a name?"

 

"A name can work, but think it out."

 

"Could I use my last name?"

 

"Sure. But what if you and I turn into a regular thing a few times a year? I might want to show you off in semi-public."

 

To Lee's credit, she only swallows hard and nods, once more trusting me. Then she grins impishly and gives me a flirty look that definitely gets my motor runnin'. "So a yellow word, like a yellow traffic light?"

 

"Exactly."

 

"Simone."

 

My laughter is not feigned and I reach out to hook her around the neck and pull her forward to plant a warm kiss between her eyebrows. "Inspired." She is pleased by my affection and I note that. Chewing at her bottom lip, she's straining and I feel the need to help out. "How about Gabrielle? After all, Reg seems real protective of you."

 

That startles her, but obviously she likes it, nodding slowly. "I certainly won't forget them. And anyone overhearing will probably think I'm a 'Bohemia'-freak or some related breed of fangirl."

 

"That's the spirit," I laugh and settle back down to business, Lee noting the change. "Now, to get this started, you read your safewords and their colors back to me. Then I give you mine." That startles her and I smile. "Just because I'm your Top for the evening doesn't mean that I can't get in over my head too." That goes to great lengths to reassure her further, the dark head nodding. "Swapping safewords is like signing a verbal contract. We will still talk about things and negotiate what we both like, but it will only slow down or stop with your words. Got it?"

 

"Got it."

 

"Yellow is Kaitlyn," I offer, thinking of my old police captain I still miss. "And red is Hollywood. Now, repeat it back so that I know you understand and I'll do the same with yours."

 

"Yellow is Kaitlyn, red is Hollywood," Lee parrots back in a clear voice before hesitating again. Now is her last hurdle before I take over. She must offer the words of her own free will.

 

So I sit back and completely relax my body language, not pressuring her. This is a step she must take completely on her own. I have played this out endless times over the years. Some can't do it, creeping out with nothing but fear and a curiosity that they may never conquer. Some jump in almost too eagerly, making me wonder about their sincerity. I'm usually right. But when a potential player, facing this new and scary unknown, hesitates and thinks it out, that reassures me. What she is about to do is no small thing.

 

After a few heavy moments, she squares her shoulders, spine drawing up ramrod straight and she looks me dead in the eye. "My yellow word is Simone and my red word is Gabrielle."

 

Dutifully, I repeat it back and the contract is sealed.

 

Right on time, there is a knock on the door and I pin the visibly startled Lee with a sharp look. "Stay," I growl and go to the door. A peek through the peephole confirms that it's Sofia and I yank the door open to let her in.

 

The weary scowl speaks volumes.

 

Only a quick glance is spared for the kneeling brunette, a sly grin curling Sofia's mouth. "Here," she grunts and shoves the black leather bag into my arms. "Cath made sure there were snacks in there, too. The food here sucks."

 

"Thanks Fetch, I owe you one."

 

Grumbling and waving absently, my pal lets herself out and I chuckle to myself. I'll make it up to her later somehow. Returning to the bed, I yank the zip and unceremoniously dump the whole damn thing out onto the sheets. The clean clothes I toss aside along with several bottles of water, sorting through a squeeze bottle of lube, the safe-sex kit in its little tupperware case and a carefully coiled length of soft cotton rope. Don't tell me I forgot it dammit…

 

Nope, rifling the bag reveals the manufacturer-sealed plastic bag caught in one of the seams. Tossing it down, I yank open the safe-sex kit and whip out a pair of surgeon's gloves. "Normally," I start chatting conversationally, "I'd have had you tested for cooties long before we got to this point, but this was a bit of a surprise." The latex snaps home over my right hand and I grin suggestively at her. "So we'll do this the old-fashioned safe way. Care to do the other?"

 

For a long moment, Lee stares at my right hand and its accompanying tapestry of tattoos before swallowing hard and reaching for the other glove. She carefully tugs the thing over my fingers, settling it close to my skin. Then I pick up the errant package and hand it over.

 

"Open it."

 

Inside is a pair of the carefully fitted, butter-soft kidskin gloves I buy by the dozens from an artisan in eastern Washington. They are nearly as supple as cloth and I can feel pretty clearly through them and the whisper-thin latex. After fondling the expensive leather for a moment, Lee takes another deep breath and dresses first my left hand and then my right, her fingers stroking my concealed flesh for a moment before she pulls back with reddened cheeks.

 

I let her get away with the familiarity for now.

 

Stalking around her kneeling body like a hungry wolf at the edge of firelight, I come to a stop at her back. "Stand up."

 

It takes a moment, her legs obviously stiff, so I simply reach down and impatiently yank at her waistband, earning a gasp and possibly a wedgie. But she gets her legs under her after a moment and I let go.

 

"Arms up."

 

Off comes the shirt, tossed negligently atop my clean clothes. Now I can start touching, running my leather-encased hands softly over her bared skin, watching the goosebumps erupt in the wake of the shivers. Down the finely muscled, narrow back, tickling the groove of her spine, brushing my knuckles into the small of her back, drinking in the whimper stifled in her throat, to slip around the narrow curve of her waist.

 

Kneeling, I blindly yank the button of the jeans and pull the zipper down before shifting my hands to grab the denim at her hips and start shimmying it down. Besides, this position gives me a chance to breathe hotly over the small of her back, a hotspot that rarely fails. When her hands ball up, I smirk with satisfaction. Placing her right hand on my shoulder, I instruct, "foot." Sneaker, sock and pant leg are shed and we do the same on the left, leaving my pet in nothing but a plain white silky bra and a crimson thong. With my teeth, I grab the elastic of said thong in my teeth and let it snap against her skin, making her jump and squeak. "No panty lines," I laugh and stand with her clothes in hand.

 

Now, one doesn't need to be a Sentinel to tell that this woman is getting fiercely turned on by this. Her nipples are already hard and she's making an effort not to squirm. The flush has spread from her cheekbones down her neck and is working its way down her chest. 

 

Tossing the clothes with the rest, I set the sneakers neatly at the edge of the bed and turn back to my prey. Now I step in close, chest to chest, looming over her small body. She stands about Cath's height, even if she's ironically built like Sara, and the boots really make me tower. Once more, I trail my hands softly over her, liking the quiet noises she makes and how her muscles jump.

 

"Don't move," I warn and she nods jerkily. That gives me a chance to grab her chin and force her to meet my eyes. "You should acknowledge an order with a 'yes ma'am'. Or 'yes sir' if that's more comfortable. Since I intend to fuck you to screaming before daybreak, the later is acceptable."

 

Heh. Her eyes have gone as wide as saucers, the pupils expanding to push back the greenish brown. Shifting my body, I lean over her intimidatingly, putting us nearly nose to nose.

 

"Say it," I hiss and she blinks, caught by the power in my eyes.

 

"Yes ma'am," she breathes out, nearly soundless, and I smile before giving her some breathing room.

 

"Good girl."

 

Releasing her chin, I finish my first lesson by repeating the whisper-soft caressing of her torso. She's starting to twitch, the expressive eyes drifting nearly closed, fingers flexing. Her weight shifts imperceptibly from foot to foot, but it's not until I start to circle her perky tits that her arms finally start to curl up.

 

"Don't move," I growl none too kindly, finally getting a real whimper from between clenched teeth. I love this game; order her not to move and then feel her up until she cracks and disobeys. Besides, this lets me learn what she likes on the vanilla end of the spectrum and I'll build on that. So I continue to caress her torso, varying the pressure as I go, using more fingers or more palm as I go. "Feel it?" I tease throatily, amused that her eyes remain closed and her leg muscles strain with the effort of not pressing into my hands. "Not what you thought this would be?"

 

Doubt she's even really listening at this point, the long weeks of curious anticipation of this night and my abrupt presence in her life having done the bulk of the work for me. When I clamp her smart-aleck nipples in the vise of forefingers and thumbs, she wails hoarsely and jumps. Hands are up, grabbing my forearms, but she shakes with the effort and forces them back down again.

 

"Much better," I soothe, cupping those fine breasts fully now to reward her with concentrated caresses that make her moan. Pulling away with a growl, I startle her by jerking her around and fumbling the obnoxious little clasp loose on the bra. Never said I could do everything with the damn gloves on…

 

Hazy and heavy-lidded, the darkened eyes watch me as I turn her again, now clad only in the crimson thong, clearly outlining the enticing curves of tummy, hipbones and groin. I'm getting a crick in my back and sit heavily on the edge of the bed to hook my fingers in that strip of cloth and tug her close, forcing her to straddle my legs. Body to body with this new lover, I quirk a tender smile that focuses her lust-scattered neurons.

 

"Hey pretty girl," I flatter, delighted when she grins girlishly. Yeah, this one's appeal is easy to see, her puppy-dog charm, good looks and glorious voice a deadly package. "You did a good job with lessons one and two."

 

"Thank you ma'am," she flatters coyly and jumps when I swat her lightly on the ass.

 

"Smartass. Don't get cocky just yet."

 

Any more sassiness on Lee's part is headed off at the pass as I curl my hands into the strong muscles of her ass, yanking her pelvis into my belly. Groaning, she stays loose in my hold, her body relaxed and pliant. There are two tools on my dorsal side right now that I can torment her with; the heavy folds of denim at my crotch and the weighty silver buckle holding the chaps to my waist.

 

Releasing the tense muscles of her fine ass, I grab both wrists, drawing them to the small of her back. "Grab your wrists," I instruct. "Don't let go."

 

"Yes ma'am," she pants, hips twitching, fighting between stillness and wanting to grind into me. 

 

This new pose thrusts her chest out, as her shoulders are forced back and I give in to the temptation to suckle the rosy tips. Knowing what this woman does for a living, I had hoped she's a noisy lover. I'm both right and wrong. The lusty animal sounds come faster and higher and breathier, but the volume is middling. Ah well, I can't complain about not getting my eardrums shattered.

 

Rather than actually bite, I just pinch her nipples in my teeth, applying pressure as she whines and pants and makes sexy sounds across a broad spectrum. When the muttered cussing starts up, my hands drifting deeply between her legs from behind, I'm not actually surprised. Her breath is hot and fast against my scalp as she curls up almost painfully. Damn she's limber.

 

Reaching back blindly for the tube of lube, I flick its cap open and aim the nozzle at my palm before giving a squeeze. Particularly while clothed in the gloves, better too much of the stuff than too little. Worming that hand past the thong, no challenge there, I feel for this new terrain to familiarize myself. Tendons stand out in her upper thighs and her grip on my hips is stronger than I'd have believed for a woman her size.

 

Guess what they say about dancers is true!

 

I have been an avid lover of women since long before I was legal and I'm damn good at it. Each female is unique, the soft hills and valleys of her pussy like a topographical map of the same country, different mapmaker. Everything's where it should be and I get to find out exactly what she likes. The pressure of my hand across the whole front half of her vulva does it, her voice ratcheting up, the cussing foul and nearly incoherent. My free hand moves from her ass to her wrists, clamping down as the convulsions start.

 

Head back, spine arched, Lee cries out brokenly as her pussy clamps around my exploring fingers. She's flushed rosy, damp with sweat and her whole damn body's into this.

 

I love it.

 

A teasing flex of my fingers makes her whine a desperate, "oh fuck," as she's trapped between 'no more' and 'again'. 

 

Patting her wrists, I purr, "let go. Grab my waistband and hang on tight."

 

It takes a moment for her to obey, utterly distracted by the feather brush of my hand trapped in her heat. This is a delicate tight-rope act, a tough prospect with a body I don't know yet. Part of her wants to calm and enjoy the buzz and part of her is still hard and tight and wants more. Vulnerable and trusting, she falls into my body, face pressed into the crook of my neck and shoulder, hands wrapped tight around the heavy leather straps that anchor the heavy leggings to the waistband of the chaps.

 

The stroking keeps her wound up, but I can't quite snap the spring. She whimpers as I pull away my caressing hand to wrap both hands around her upper thighs and stand up abruptly. She's not heavy, just compact, and walking with her additional weight to the far side of the bed is a cinch. Besides, now I get the thrill of those legs wrapped around my waist.

 

Once again she squeaks as she impacts the bed, our bodies still intertwined and my hands bracing my weight above her. And now I can see her face and the shame and pleasure warring there. "Hey," I soothe, "what's wrong? Second thoughts already?"

 

"No," she whispers. "I couldn't… get off a second time."

 

This is a bad time to laugh, and I don't, even as part of me wants to. "Honey, you've been heterosexual for too damn long. I'm not keeping score. Your nerves are over-stimulated and you need a breather. No prob." Hope replaces tension and shame and I make a note to dole out the flattery a bit more judiciously. Settling my body firmly into hers, I brace myself on my left elbow and tug on her arm to get her hand up. She's as curious as a little kid as I press her slender hand to my cheek. "Touch. Go ahead, it's okay."

 

Shy with this unexpected intimacy, her expression reflects the feather touch of her fingertips over the planes and hollows of my face. I even trustingly close my eyes so that she can brush the silky lids and the thrust of eye cavity to brow. 

 

Besides, I'm curious if she's bold enough to touch the scar.

 

Few dare, which kind of saddens me actually. It's the size of my middle finger, livid against my golden complexion and bracketed in with the old pinpricks of the sutures that roughly zipped it closed. The overworked county surgeons were far more concerned with trying to save my ruined arm to worry about my looks. By the time a plastic surgeon got to me, it was too late. So once it healed completely, I had a metal rod sunk beneath the hardened flesh to revel in the defect. Just as I'd made Michael cover my horrifically scarred arm in the gorgeous tattoos. 

 

Lee charms me completely by tracing the scar on my face as though reading Braille. 

 

"Must have taken forever to heal," she muses, caressing the skin-hot platinum rod and the whitened hairs in my brow. "I like the piercing. It shows no shame."

 

It's a very accurate observation and I grin warmly and finally, finally get the same in return. It's a full faced smile that lights up her eyes, squinching up the inside corners adorably. Her bare feet are slithering over the back of my thighs and I grin suggestively.

 

"Like those, do ya?"

 

"You sure wear leather well."

 

"And you haven't even seen the signature jacket!"

 

Experimentally, I rock my hips into her crotch to see what response will come, gratified when her breath hitches. 

 

"Watch me," I tell her, determined to read the tale of her arousal in her face. "You can touch if you want." Visibly gratified, she continues to pet my face, combing through my ragged white-gold mane, grabbing at my neck, smoothing my shoulders, wrapping those expressive hands around my biceps.

 

Too many people think that kinky sex requires props and elaborate theatricality. By the pleasantly startled expression on my new girl's face at the subtle and careful press of my pubic bone beneath the strategic placed button fly, until a few moments ago…

 

She was one of them. 

 

This is a difficult trick, the blunt press of my cunt to hers, slowly grinding with the effort to turn us both on. More important is the connection of our gazes, for the most important sex organ is the brain. Caressing over her temples and cheekbones, my hands drift into the sloppily dried hair to pull loose the tie at the base of her head. It gives me something to grasp in my fingers while my brain concentrates on below the waist. 

 

It gets close, real damn close and then I spot the amusement and mild frustration in her green eyes. Dunno what causes it, but her sharp snort is instantly echoed by my entirely butchless giggle…

 

And we both dissolve into hysterics.

 

Her laughter is uproarious and completely unfettered, her smaller body shaking beneath mine. "I like you," she finally giggles and scrubs away her tears of laughter with the heel of her hand. "But this is twice you've left me fucking hanging like this."

 

The hilarious quaver in her tone takes away any sting, as does the full bodied hug, her strong arms and legs squeezing me into groaning for mercy. "Alright, let up you evil hussy or I'll send you home wet and horny like this."

 

Making a face, she does as ordered, jumping as I crack my open hand across her hip. "Yes ma'am," she sasses and I realize that the laughter has uncorked her inner brat. Oh good, this I can work with. Cupping a hand under her ass, I toss Lee onto her stomach. With the weak right hand in the middle of her back and kneeling carefully so that all she can kick is my boots, I set about bringing up some color on her rear. Gripping the sheets in her fists, she doesn't object to the slaps and soon I have some good dark pink on her asscheeks. 

 

"You're a brat," I admire as I haul her to her feet, noting the complete lack of contrition on her face. "I think I might have underestimated you." Before she can do more than squawk in surprise, her own t-shirt and several loops of rope have bound her wrists together and the trailing edge is snugly tied off to the panic clip on the chain mounted in the ceiling.

 

"Hey!" she whines as I step away to winch up the chain and my diva is stretched tight.

 

"You're a neophyte, brat or no brat," I comment conversationally, going to the collection of objects dumped earlier from my play bag. "So I'll leave your feet flat on the floor instead of on your toes. Once you start getting the tingles in your arms, that will be some small favor." Her expression is amused and mulish. Definitely underestimated this firecracker!

 

My foot collides with something under the edge of the bed and crouch to look. I should have known Sofia sent it. The damn thing must have fallen out when I unceremoniously dumped the bag. Serves me right to almost lose it. 

 

"So, I've left you hanging, hmm?" I muse as though to myself and eye her like a side of beef. When I hook her disarrayed thong, she jerks away, kicking awkwardly. Now I growl for real, a low, feral, feline sound. She squeals in shock as I grab her thighs, hauling her lower body into my gut while her upper half hangs from the bondage.

 

"No, no, no," isn’t her safewords and I ignore her, grabbing the trailing end of the rope to tie her knees together just tight enough so all she can do is writhe impotently. And like a worm on a hook she does, muttering foully until I laugh meanly at her.

 

"Aw, poor baby. Is just an old fashioned fuck that'll get you off?" Pulling the zip on the case I found beneath the bed, I leave the prize inside to be ogled. "I can do that, but it seems almost a copout." The thing's just a strap-on the way a Bentley is just a car. Years of product development and countless bucks have gone into getting this Rolls Royce of dyke dicks perfect. The shorter end of the 'v' shaped toy is bean-shaped and firmly squishy, meant to be held inside the wearer. The fucking shaft is cored with a nylon articulated 'skeleton' so that it as maneuverable as a python. Beneath the silky silicone skin is a layer of thick gel that shifts around from shaft to shaft while fucking. The thing is just as fun for the wearer as her partner.

 

Lee's torn, part of her wanting the semi-familiarity of the phallus and part of her wanting to see what I can do without it. So I go for the first aid kit and pull out the blunt EMT scissors and start stalking my prey.

 

"You don't scare me," she blusters and I shrug.

 

"Your loss, sweet cheeks. But I haven't really tried either. Just feelin' you out."

 

The rope around her knees makes a great handle and she can squirm all she wants, to no avail. Since there is literally no way to cut her with the safety scissors, I calmly ignore the wriggling energy of her body and snip through the thong over each kidney. Then I can reach around and tug the crimson scrap loose to shove it in my pocket with a leer.

 

"Souvenir. It's not like I can talk about this to anyone but Michael and my boss."

 

She debates with herself for a moment before settling and looking contrite. Not that I believe it for a second.

 

"Your boss, ma'am?"

 

"The Queen of Hearts. And I suggest that you keep any 'off with her head' jokes to yourself if you ever meet her. She is a true lady and deserves to be treated as such. A brat like you would be hogtied, gagged and sent to her to get your hide tanned." Then I grin wickedly and stride over to gather up my clean clothes before heading for the bathroom. "Don't go anywhere."

 

A speaker in the bathroom clearly transmits her frustration. It's a good safety feature and a hoot as well. Stripping naked, I eye my skin, irritated at being trapped beneath the chaps for so long. Like a good hotel, there are little bottles of shampoo, conditioner and hand lotion. Unlike a good hotel, there is a damn nice safe sex kit that impresses me, set up elaborately like a kinky bouquet of flowers. I'll have to tell Michael to look into the food Sofia complained about and this place will be pretty damn close to perfect.

 

A hot shower that I neither rush nor delay relaxes me and wakes me up for more fun and games. I've had little sleep in the last thirty hours or so, but I've tolerated much worse. Freshly scrubbed, I pull on clean underwear and chuckle that Cath packed me a black t and jungle cammie pants. "Perverse," I chortle to my mate and don the clothes. Stamping my freshly socked feet into my beloved old boots, I collect the leather gloves and the safe-sex kit and head back out.

 

Lee's expression is miserable and she's definitely not happy with her predicament. Neither of us speaks, just warily watch one another. She's more complicated than I had thought initially and I relish the challenge. So I let the power of the predator wash over me and approach her helpless body. Hunching down, I kiss her lightly, feeling her mouth play curiously against mine. Before the kiss can get friendly, I pull away, but only far enough to start plucking the strings of her body.

 

Even more than when I initially undressed her, I take time to savor this new terrain. When she starts squirming again, I release the panic strap and she staggers a bit. "I've got you," I reassure and maneuver her body so that she can lie on the bed in a semi-kneeling position. Gloving up again, I trail kisses and nips over her back, warming her up again, getting her blood and hormones pumping.

 

"Where does your skin show?" I abruptly ask, pressing my hands flat to her hips.

 

"What? Umm, arms, upper chest, hips down. Reg shows more skin than I do."

 

"Yeah, but Reg isn't going to bite you."

 

It's not really an actual bite, but it sure feels like it! On the upper curse of her delicious ass, I pick a fleshy spot and combine some serious suction with the rasp of my teeth to startle her nerves. And she squeals for it now, outraged and horny. Once she's trying to squirm away from my mouth, I make her tolerate the pain for a moment longer before moving to a different spot. Running the fingers of my right hand on my jawline to test, I note that they're still pretty slick. 

 

Good. Except this will be an awkward position to keep the gloves clean. Ah ha! Without having to remove my torturing mouth, I can just reach the safe sex kit and snatch out a handful of gloves, and better, several condoms slither to the floor. Ripping the plastic on one of the rubbers, I roll the thing over my thumb and shift my body up to suckle at the small of her back, tickling my fingertips at her swollen vulva.

 

Lee's moaning and muttering across a wide spectrum of tones and sounds, up on her elbows with her bound wrists nestled up between her breasts, the sheet fisted in her hands. With her knees still trapped, all she can do is scrabble her toes at the industrial carpet, unable to find purchase as my greater weight has her hips pinned. 

 

"You want it, pretty girl?"

 

"Yes!" She wails. "Please!"

 

Tucking my thumb against her asshole, my fingers sink into her softness to see if I can make her scream again. With my mouth in the hollow at the base of her spine and my hand deep between her legs, Lee's off and running. She's been through a lot of teasing and I hope to get her off again. I'm guessing that she's just nervous with a stranger between her legs and needs to be coaxed past that. 

 

Hoping she won't rear back and bust my face, I move my other hand so that I can knead her fleshy mons, feeling the rasp of her pubes, slipping in middle and ring deeper to straddle her clit and add to the sensation symphony playing along her nervous system. 

 

Even with the long teasing, the climax doesn't come easily. But it's an intense one, making her shake and grunt, every muscle in her body tight and hard. Slowly, she settles and I feel tender about her sprawled, vulnerable body and the sassy and sweet woman within. So I gently kiss her spine and slowly remove my fingers from the grip of her body, thrilling at the long, musical note of animal feeling that echoes out of her.

 

Stripping my hands bare, I pull the slipknot that holds her legs and carefully gather up her slender body to mine. Immediately, she cuddles into my torso with her whole body and I'm warmed by her sweetness. Carefully balancing on one boot, I use the other to push back the bedding and settle her to the navy sheets.

 

"Rest," I purr and kiss her forehead. "I'll be back in a sec."

 

Humming an affirmative, she does as I've asked and I can quickly gather up my things and put them on the bondage table. Wetting a hand towel in warm water, I return to my pet, who's more asleep than awake.

 

"You are completely adorable," I note and crouch beside her, noting the mischievous smile on her face. "But you know that, hmm?" 

 

With her still-bound wrists above her head, I can run the terrycloth over her body to soothe and wipe away the accumulated sweat. She very nearly purrs at the attention and I have to chuckle at her sweetly feral state. Then I roll her onto her belly and repeat the process, including pushing her thighs apart to quickly mop off the worst of the lube.

 

Tossing the sheet and blanket over her, I sit and toe off my boots before stripping off my shirt and grimacing wryly at my own hard and sensitive nipples. Oh well… right now I need sleep more than sex. Leaning onto my left arm, I pluck at the slip knot holding her wrists trapped.

 

"I kinda like it," Lee notes, her voice soft and I pause before finishing releasing her.

 

"Okay. But it's not safe to sleep like that. Compromise?"

 

Measuring out the perfect length by looping it around the thickest part of her left hand, I tie a loose knot and then slip the loop over her hand. Grinning at the curious green eyes watching the process, I explain, "Now you can get out with just a twist of your hand. Psychological bondage."

 

With a couple feet of play, I tie the other end to the barred headboard and finally get to drop onto my back to sigh heavily. After a few long moments, I note that she's not relaxing and reach out to touch her hip.

 

"Lee? You okay?"

 

Clearing her throat, she whispers, "I'm… feeling a little vulnerable. Can I cuddle?"

 

There are times I can be a dumbass, no matter how long I have done this. "Of course you can, sweet girl. Come're."

 

That's all the invitation she needs, rolling over to press her whole body against my side, shivering convulsively before finally relaxing. With her dark head tucked against my neck and jaw, her right hand fisted into the sheet in the middle of my chest and her slimly muscled body pliant against mine, I can forget for the moment that she is not Sara and my loose embrace is subconsciously adoring.

 

Sleep comes easily.


	4. Chapter 4

The desert of my home is endless and rocky, a near moonscape of dead dry isolation. The sensation of rain is glorious, the sweet coolness caressing the parched earth and hot, dry skin. Sara and I are both from the coast of California, me the south and she to the north, meeting in San Francisco in the middle. If not the rain, we always had the entity of the Pacific to soothe us.

 

We like the rain and the desert makes us appreciate the rare gift of falling water. Like children or happy animals, we romp in the stuff given even a small chance.

 

And is anything more glorious than kisses in the desert beneath a raining sky?

 

I'm barely aware that I've moaned softly at the dream-memories of my sweet Sara, the light touch on my body rousing me. There're long, lazy moments when I just soak up the shy caresses, a gentle mouth on the hollow of my throat and a caressing hand on my ribs. 

 

But I do start a bit in surprise when the eyes I meet aren't the familiar dark brown, but the mossy green of my new lover. "Lee," I mutter and she freezes self-consciously. Snorting sleepily, I grab at the sheets with my toes and push them away as best I can. "Touch all you want, pretty girl. Just beware."

 

"Of?" she asks timidly and I chuckle softly and relax back into the pillow.

 

"I'm still nursing my kids. I'll leak all over you."

 

"Okay. May I take my hand back, please ma'am?"

 

Oh, right. "Yes."

 

Honestly, I'm a little surprised at her boldness, her wiry weight shifting to cover me, her mouth trailing wet kisses downward, her hands on my torso, near where our bare tits mingle. Just as her mouth would touch the scarred tattoo on my sternum, she stiffens with a cartoon squeak of alarm.

 

Chuckling, I raise my head again, even as Lee is up and off me with a distressed noise. "Fuck, I gotta pee," she whines and is off like a shot even as I dissolve into laughter. Stretching, I sit up and note that I'm going to need to get to the twins soonish. After all this time, the routine's getting a little old. "Can I clean up a little?"

 

I hadn't even heard her step out of the bathroom! Blinking, I eye Lee blankly for a moment, still a little disoriented by my body's mistaking her as Sara. "Yeah, sure."

 

Utterly unselfconscious about being naked, Lee goes for her bag and scrounges through it to come up with a hairbrush, toothbrush and toothpaste. Flouncing happily, she retreats to the bathroom again and I just shake my head. My amusement is only heightened with the muffled sounds of her singing to herself through brushing her teeth. Obviously, she's in a good mood.

 

"Lee?"

 

Curious, she steps into the room, wiping her hands on a towel, head cocked like a dog. "Yeah?"

 

"Could you handle a break from this? I really should feed us and my kids. Then, I got a real nice room over at the Times Square Hilton where my bike is. Or, we can come back here."

 

"I can adapt, sure. This is actually early for me. It's not even ten a.m.! Do I get a nap later?"

 

The kittenish complaint makes me laugh and sit up and stretch. "Yeah, me too, actually. My pack generally works graveyard and my business is pretty well nocturnal. Get dressed and I'll feed a different need."

 

Giggling, she does just that, scowling at the lack of underwear, which makes me snerk and leer. Everything gets packed up; I yank my bra back on and stuff the autographed shirt in my bag. Lee giggles, "If you could have only seen the look on your face when Eve started writing on you. God, we're gonna be giggling about that for months."

 

"Trust me," I parry back and toss her duffel to her, "I won't forget it either."

 

In the sunlight, I pause to stretch like the great yellow cat I'm sorta related to, not giving a crap if I'm being ogled by anyone. 

 

"Where to?" Lee asks. "Your sidekick got here pretty quick last night. They can't be that far, right?"

 

"Smart girl. There's a Spades-owned building a couple blocks away where we're staying this trip. Couple of floors have been converted to corporate housing. C'mon, the twins'll be up by now. They know I'm coming."

 

It's predictably too noisy to talk and I'm thoroughly amused and charmed once more by this woman when she slips a hand under my bag to hook a couple fingers into my waistband. It's a subtle hold, because I'll bet she has to keep in mind that she never knows who's watching. 

 

When Catherine opens the door to the suite, she's grinning in that coyote, knowing kind of way. "Hey there. I was going to call you when the kittens suddenly perked up. Mornin' Lee, come on in."

 

And that alleviates any possible discomfort the actress might have felt. While I attend to the twins, Cath chats casually with our guest, who's predictably fascinated by what my mate does for a living. 

 

Not many people get to meet an honest-to-god criminalist; especially from the second best lab in the country. Hell, it is the best non-federal lab. 

 

"How did you two meet?" Lee breathes in absolute disbelief and I swallow amusement as Catherine laughs out loud.

 

"Honey, you wouldn’t believe me if I told you. Let's just say that it was fate."

 

We share a sweet gaze of complete understanding, right down to the depths of our intertwined souls.

 

Once Katie's more chewing than eating, which gets more painful the older and stronger she gets, I toss her onto my shoulder where she grips my hair in her favorite climbing behavior and I can pat her until she burps. Then she gets to toddle to her other mom while I do the same with Sandy, cat-talking with both the whole time.

 

By that time room service has arrived and Lee retreats to the bathroom while lunch is set up. I can just make out the sound of her voice, obviously on the phone. Catherine is thoroughly amused by all of this, accustomed to how strange life can get around me. So we gather around the coffee table to eat and entertain the kittens, a sleepy Sofia wandering out in her jammies to barely acknowledge the whole mess of us until she's worked her way through a couple cups of coffee and several hundred calories.

 

"Don't forget to call home to wish Cassie a happy birthday," Sofia eventually yawns, finally coherent. "It's bad enough you're with her and Lindsey and Jamie would kill you if they knew." The negligent gesture at Lee makes her startle and I laugh.

 

"Catherine's ten and a half year old and her best friend. They adore you."

 

Poor Lee looks completely disarmed and not a little intimidated. Catherine slaps Sofia's shoulder and smiles maternally at our guest. "What's the matter, honey?"

 

"Jesus, you people are so… so… fucking cool! I feel like just some idiot singer."

 

None of us laugh, though Sofia has to slap on her 'Detective Curtis' face to manage it. 

 

"Oh, we're just different worlds, Lee," Catherine waves off the outburst. "Not better or worse. The girls would be starry-eyed because you're famous. We get that you're just… Lee. However, you and that handsome hubby of yours are also lucky to be in a position to get on that one's radar."

 

I acknowledge her comment with a raise of my glass and grin at my new pal. "See? Nothing to worry about. Told you I'd protect you. They will too. Finish your lunch."

 

And with something mundane to do, Lee slowly calms from her bewilderment. I sneak off for a few minutes to repack my play gear into a backpack that I can lock like luggage, adding several things in the process. This includes leaving my collectable t-shirt here and getting something more ordinary over my skin.

 

"Ready?" I ask Lee and she looks up from where she's been tickling Sandy with that shy grin. "You need to do some shopping? Or swing by wherever the hell it is you live? Am I completely disrupting some sort of routine you need to stick too?"

 

"Nothing that a day or two will destroy," she smiles. "And I have clothes at the theater. Just don't make me walk too far. I'll chafe in weird places."

 

Catherine sends me off with a kiss and a knowing smile. Out on the street, I call back to the ranch, surprised when the voicemail picks up. Usually somebody answers with so many people living there. So I horrify my companion by a badly sung couple lines of 'Happy Birthday' and wish the now-nineteen year old Cassie many more before I hang up and follow Lee into the waiting cab.

 

The clinging heat is getting to me again and Lee chortles at me, "You really hate this humidity, don't you?"

 

"I've lived smack in the middle of the biggest goddamn desert outside the frickin' Sahara for nearly two and half years. And San Francisco never did heat and humidity like this. You east coast people are mental."

 

She laughs and bumps shoulders with me. During the ride, she points a few things out and I listen like a good tourist. It's just mouth noises at this point anyway, because I can smell how randy she's getting. At the hotel, Lee slaps my hand down and pays the cabbie, much to my amusement.

 

We travel to my room in silence.

 

The minute the heavy hotel room door clicks shut, I grab Lee by her shirtfront and toss her against the surface none to gently. Caught up in the sizzle of sexual energy, I know my eyes must be just about blazing gold right now.

 

"If I kiss you," I growl ferally, "will you send me away with anything more than memories?"

 

Frantically, she shakes her head. "No. No, I'm clean, I swear."

 

"I'm trusting you, Lee."

 

"I know."

 

She's a good kisser, friendly and responsive, gripping my collar and waistband in her hands, moaning deep in her chest, not holding back even a little. Crouching, I grab her ass and she willingly jumps up to wrap her legs around me so that I can blindly wander over to the bed. Just like the wee hours this morning, I lower her down with the wiry strength I had to work so hard for after the attack that scarred me and sprawl my greater weight over her.

 

Kissing someone new is always such an intimate experience and not something I do with just anyone. But I really like this woman and she really does remind me powerfully of someone I adore. Pushing away all that, I concentrate on her, because it's the least that I can do.

 

In this, Lee refuses to submit, kissing me fiercely, digging her heels into my thighs, twisting my ragged sunshine mane in her fingers. It's dizzying and gratifying and intoxicating, transforming us into just a simple pair of people finding pleasure in one another.

 

Before I know it, she's shoved me onto my back and is wrestling with my shirt. "Goddammit, get naked. I didn’t get nearly enough of a chance to explore you earlier."

 

"Far be it for me to object to a lady in distress," I chuckle and get up on my elbows so that she can skin the fabric up to my armpits and I can drop flat to wrestle the mess over my head. Straddling my hips, she looks quietly at me, still breathing hard with lust, her striking eyes bright and curious. With quiet empathy, I lay quiet, my hands relaxed on her thighs.

 

My fucking her is different than what she is doing now. Raw, animal pleasure can be dished out by anyone, doesn’t matter the equipment. But her making love to me will take her out of a long-standing comfort zone and I know this.

 

With a deep breath, Lee skins herself naked from the waist up in one smooth move and leans over to kiss me again, pressing her body to mine. I will say that once she's made a decision, she doesn't hold back, really pouring herself into me.

 

For a women who's done no more than make out with another girl for a Broadway paycheck, she's a natural. But then again, just pure lusty enthusiasm can make up for experience, or lack thereof. "You're a good kisser," she grins, her dark hair falling around us like a curtain.

 

"You too, songbird. What else are you good at?"

 

"Dunno. Gonna find out."

 

Still grinning wildly, she sits back to watch her own hands as they begin to trace my body. Rather than watch her movements, I watch her eyes, reveling in her expressiveness as she does this. 

 

When she touches the most intimate of my tattoos, I'm not surprised that her hands jerk up and she stares at me. "That's… not just ink."

 

"No. It's not."

 

Fascinated, she once more traces delicate fingertips over the inverted playing-card heart inked in crimson directly on my sternum, where the skin is thin over the bone. Superimposed over the heart is a playing-card diamond of fine black lines, with two lines cutting the diamond into quarters. 

 

The black lines pucker like the fine scars that they are.

 

But these scars are no accident and I will always remember the burn of the scalpel and the black tattoo ink pressed into the bloody lines as my once-Mistress wrote her goodbye into my flesh. Reaching up to press this stranger's fingers to the marks, I explain soberly. "I broke a very serious promise to someone I adored. It's a long story and one you might earn someday. These scars are scant penance for what I had to do."

 

Fascination, horror and admiration play over her expressive face and she slowly nods, leaning over to kiss that place respectfully.

 

She does not directly touch it again.

 

Tenderly, she strokes and kisses down the middle of my chest, fingers shyly wandering off to circle my nipples, standing erect and ready. "Gently," I tell her as perceptive hands touch them tentatively. "I'm really sensitive and it can hurt. Comes with feeding the rug rats. And I might taste a little odd, though I should be drained dry right now."

 

Tossing her hair over her shoulder with some instinctual knowledge that I'd like to watch, Lee suckles delicately at the curve of my right breast, her breath hot and fast through her nose. By the time she teasingly traces that tongue around my hard, sensitive bud, I'm gripping the sheets in both fists.

 

Just as I asked, she's very gentle, her mouth soft, no teeth and no heavy pressure. Some part of me notes, as I always do, how different and similar a lover's suckling feels as opposed to my kids. Unable to resist the urge, I carefully knit my fingers into her silky mane, caressing her scalp and a soft groan breathes up from my growing need.

 

Open-mouthed, she tests my reactions, tongue coiling, until I growl, "gently," when the suction is too heavy. Apologetic, she once again does it perfectly and I have to admire her ability to take instruction. Eventually she tires, or realizes that she's got two to play with and kisses her way to my left.

 

The tickle of trailing locks of that fine hair makes me moan for real.

 

Lee practices her new skill on my other breast while arching her strong body up so that she can start easing buttons open on the fatigue pants. Then she soothes her exploring hands over the long plains of belly and abdomen, tracing the shape of my rib cage and the soft places between. The feel of the expensive silk boxers under the pants makes her huff in amusement, fondly kissing my nicely stimulated tit before sitting up.

 

"Different," she notes, licking her chops and I have to chuckle at her satisfaction. "But damn nice. Someday you'll have to let me try this when I'm not competing with your kids."

 

Laughing, I slap her thigh with affection and she clambers to her feet.

 

"I'm gonna get your kit. Stay put."

 

I have no desire to get up and would probably pass out with lightheadedness 'cause all the blood that should be in my brain has migrated south. Folding my hands behind my head, I cross my boots and watch the whirlwind that has taken over my stuff.

 

"Y'know, part of me knows that safe sex doesn't have to be boring," Lee rambles in her soft, distinctive voice, unloading the leather bag onto the dresser and pulling out various things. When she pauses over the case containing the toy, I grin naughtily. Bet that thing will see use before the day is up! Shaking herself out, Lee starts speaking again. "But you've made it more fun than I'd have thought. There." She turns to show her prizes. "Gloves and lube. Do I pass sensei?"

 

Laughing, I nod. "Yes, smartass, you pass. Now get that fine ass over here. And bring a couple spares so that I can attempt to distract you a bit."

 

Giggling coyly, Lee tosses her prizes to the comforter and reaches for my boots. With shocking shrewdness, she notices the subtle shift in my body language as she wraps her hands around the toes and heel, stilling like a hunted animal. "Don't touch the boots?" she asks tentatively and I'm surprised at the honestly of my reply.

 

"I'm not sure, actually. What you're doing right now is very psychologically intimate to me. But I'm rather surprised to admit that I like it."

 

With that sweet, shy smile, Lee plays it up like a pro, caressing the heavy old leather and my innards spasm with pleasure at her teasing. Definitely a natural…

 

As the boot slides off my socked foot, she examines the beloved object, stroking the pigskin strap that holds the heavy nickel chain to Achilles' tendon and arch. "You've had these a long time. They're in beautiful shape."

 

"They're a prop. They get me into character more than any other one thing."

 

"I guess I hadn't thought about what you do being just as theatrical as what I do," Lee muses, respectfully setting aside the boot and slowly removing the other.

 

"It's a little more one on one," I add dryly. "Usually anyway. Now a sex show with two thousand people in the audience would be a scream, but I don't think it's gonna happen in my lifetime."

 

"Certainly not at the Hirschman," she chuckles, tugging the cammie pants away from my hips and legs before carefully setting them aside so that the crap in the pockets stays put. After pinching off my socks, she casually strips naked and crawls up my body to settle atop me. She's dense for her small stature and I enjoy the feeling of the supple working muscle beneath her skin.

 

Once more, kisses lead to caresses, her right hand slithering down our intertwined bodies, me grabbing a pair of gloves and smacking her knuckles hard enough to sting. "Sorry," she giggles, "I'm getting horny and a little stupid."

 

Snorting, I chew lightly at her bottom lip while holding one latex glove in my fingers so that she can worm her hand inside.

 

Eventually, Lee runs out of reach and sits up beside me to continue her explorations. Honestly, I'm not sure I've ever been this intimate with a first timer before. She's like a sculptor, testing every inch of my skin that she can reach. Pressing into the bones beneath, giggling when I flex the faint abdominal six-pack, tracing the little hollow of my navel. Eventually we wrestle the shorts off and I am finally utterly bared. 

 

"You're colored so differently," she marvels, shyly pressing her naked left hand down the cradle of my hipbone and over the gold curls. 

 

"The desert sun has bleached me out. Those don't get sun. Lee?"

 

"Hmmm?"

 

"Put on a glove, or switch hands, make sure we're both slippery and lay your body back down here. You're making us both nervous and I'd like to hold you."

 

Nodding, she does as I've asked, squeezing out a thick blob of the cold lube onto my pubes, causing me to jump and her to giggle. Then she levers herself over my larger frame and I tuck my right thigh up between hers as she settles with her ear over my heart. Now the experiment is for real, her fingertips tickling deeper between my legs as I bury my fingers in her hair and murmur encouragement. 

 

Luckily, she's a good listener, and I want this really bad. So, while she might still be unsure, her exploring gets the job done, the orgasm shuddering over me, making me hiss and groan. Propping her chin on my breastbone just south of the tat, Lee smiles luminously as I relax, going so far as to flash my teeth in a lazy yawn.

 

It becomes quickly apparent the Lee is not going to settle and I clamp her head to my chest, hearing her giggle. "You're wired. Does this mean no nap?"

 

"I'm not used to all this inactivity. Would you like to do something? Take a walk? Toss a penny in the Hudson? Make fun of Jersey?"

 

Laughter bubbles up and I hug her. Definitely no nap for me. "I have the bike. Wanna ride? I can swing through the Bronx and get you set up to be tested at the Spades lab if you want to play at some later date. It'll get you into the system and if you and Jaye want to be members, you can finish the details later with Michael."

 

"Sounds like fun. Will you wear the chaps again?"

 

Laughing, I wriggle away to toss her over my shoulder and swat her ass, carrying her to the shower to dump her there. A quick glance at the scrapped thong in my pants pocket gets a size and I call down to the desk for some new clothes to be sent up for my guest. Then I hop into the running shower to tickle Lee and make her squeal and prance.

 

Eventually we get cleaned up and I leave her in the bathroom to answer the door and accept the bag from the porter. Going for the wallet and a tip gives the guy an eyeful and I send him on his way. Then I sit on the bed and pull the damply naked Lee down to sit between my thighs, determined to do something I've wanted since laying eyes on her.

 

Lee practically purrs as I gently work my fingers through the wet mass of her chestnut hair.

 

"Got you a present," I chuckle and she explores the hotel bag, pleased with the clean underwear, socks and plain white t-shirt.

 

"Thank you," she purrs and nuzzles my jaw for a moment before bouncing away to get dressed.

 

I pull out the black jeans I'd grabbed earlier, despite knowing that I'm going to roast. First plain old blue boy briefs, then the jeans, and the tight athletic socks that I snap over the trailing edges of the jeans. It's a trick for helping keep the pant legs in place while the well-loved old leather of the chaps slides over them.

 

I can feel Lee watching me do this and smile to myself.

 

"Come here," I abruptly growl at her and she jumps almost guiltily. "Gonna put you to work, pretty girl. Tug my pant legs down, far as you can." Kneeling with a hard swallow, Lee does as ordered and I place a hand on her head. "Stay." Painstakingly slow and teasing, I push one foot and then other into the well-loved old boots. "Zippers."

 

With trembling hands, she pulls the calf zippers over denim and horsehide, stroking the buttery surface. Crouching down onto the balls of my feet, I balance perfectly like that, elbows on knees.

 

"We're not done, are we, pretty girl? You and me will have unfinished business for a good long time, hmmm? You just keep that in mind."

 

Tilting her chin up, I give her a quick peck and stand again to pull on a bra in grey this time and hesitate over the shirt. Oh screw it. No one's cared so far that I'm shirtless!

 

"Got sunglasses, Miss Popular?" I tease as I repack my bag and park my own shades low on my nose to peer over them. She flashes me a 'duh' look and fishes out a pair of shades updated from Sofia's aviator-style. These are higher end, stylized and feminine, with thick stems and irridecent sheen on the lenses. When she slips them on to pose like a supermodel, I crack up.

 

A quick word with the desk gets me checked out, but I pause, looking at Lee, dressed like a college student, and me, a biker. With a mischievous grin, I get the guy at the desk on his computer's search engine and he hands me an address and cross streets. Definitely like this hotel!

 

In the garage, the Road King sits quietly, like a dozing predator in white and black and chrome. Luckily, I remembered yesterday to switch keys with Sofia because I had a feeling I was going to need another seat. I unlock the saddlebags to yank out the heavy leather jacket, nearly as old as the boots. I know every symbol across my back and shoulders, some echoing the tattoos on my back, and all of them important to who I am. Shrugging the thing on, I stash Lee's bag and retrieve a bungee web to keep my larger bag strapped tight to the rear wheel cover. Lee doesn't hesitate to put on the helmet I hand her, sticking her tongue out at me when I tease, "Good thing you're not some sort of prissy diva."

 

Straddling the padded seat, I slot the key and roar the big bike to life, the sound making Lee jump as it reverberates through the parking garage. Reaching down, I slap down the footpegs and then reach into the inside pockets of the jacket for my driving gloves. 

 

"Hop on pussycat and I'll give you a different thrill." It's a little tall for her and she flops down ungracefully to the seat behind me, getting a thwack in the crotch that makes her curse. "Feet on the pegs I just put down, Lee. Ever been on a motorcycle before?"

 

"Not like this!"

 

"Okay. Your job is to stay close to my back and trust my body. When I move into a turn or a maneuver, you move with me, got it?"

 

"Okay."

 

"Be a good girl and we're as safe as humanly possible. That, and I'll reward you nice, since you're gonna be all worked up anyway."

 

"Cocky."

 

Rather than verbalize, I pause in balancing the bike off its stand to roar the RPMs up to deafening, the bike shuddering like an unbroken horse. Her sudden death grip around my ribs makes me laugh. "You are astride an enormous vibrator, darlin'. You'll be humping up against my ass soon enough, sooner still if I can find an empty enough stretch of road to open her up in this godforsaken rat's maze. Now, trust me!"

 

Luckily, Lee's limber and trusting, not to mention glued to my torso like an extension of my body, so the riding is easy. The constant chaos of this city is maddening and I'm reminded again that I can never be more than a brief visitor. Fortunately for me, I like my pal and she's calming enough that my senses are still well under control.

 

After navigating the harrowing intersection of 8th and Broadway, we tool along the western edge of Central Park. When we get stopped at a light, I finally get a sound that I've been unconsciously searching for.

 

They are small, chunky black birds, iridescent with green and purple and cloaked in gaudy stars and stripes of yellow and white. Hundreds of them are clustered in a tree nearby, their collective trilling song a racket. Even as I rev the engine to follow the truck in front of us, I experimentally whistle a fairly decent mimicry of the birds.

 

"Hey, you're good at that," Lee marvels and I laugh in the summer heat.

 

"I have your nick name, pretty girl. From me to you. You need a bird name, singer, and I couldn't remember what those were called until I saw them just now."

 

"Starlings?"

 

Warbling the bird's buzzing trill again, I move my right hand just long enough to pat her thigh. "Starling."

 

"You've named me after a pest species?"

 

Her feminine outrage cracks me up. "I've named you after a colorful, successful bird with a lovely voice that works well with its own. Don't be a pain in the ass, Lee."

 

Grumbling melodramatically, she rests her chin on my shoulder and we continue through her city until we reach the first cross street and I hang a right. "Where are we going?"

 

"Shopping."

 

Simultaneously, I spot the store's sign and a narrow parking spot. A glace over my shoulder shows me a cab that really is following as closely as I think it is. Oh great. So I squeeze the brakes until he's forced to jerk around us, horn blazing.

 

"Asshole!" Lee screams at him in fine New York fashion, flipping him the bird as I put boots to asphalt as we slow and then roll the bike back into the spot, chuckling the whole time.

 

"Get off, crazy woman," I laugh and she flops limp across my shoulders and moans pitifully.

 

"You made me straddle this fucking thing from Manhattan to the goddamn Bronx and you want me to walk? What kind of sadist are you?"

 

For what feels like the millionth time since getting to know this frisky female, I'm laughing again. "One that will make you face two thousand screaming fans sexually frustrated enough to light your costume on fire if you don't get your ass in gear."

 

Pouting childishly, she whines but does as ordered, prancing comically like she's got to pee. I retrieve my bag for safety and lock the helmets in the saddlebag. With my right hand wrapped heavily around the base of Lee's neck, I march us down a couple blocks to a seedy leather shop Michael recommended to me ages ago. I've never made the time to drop in and take a deep, appreciative lungful of the fragrant air inside. It's dim and dusty and cramped and reeks of cured animal skins.

 

Lee stares around as I walk away from her to the greasy-looking biker lounging behind the counter with a battered copy of 'FHM' in his hands. With a flick of my fingers, the glittering gold card is held there and I growl, "the Archangel Michael sent me."

 

Oh, he's all business now!

 

"My new girl needs to not look ridiculous on the back of my hog."

 

Without a word, the gorilla eyeballs Lee for a moment before lumbering over to a crowded rack of leather jackets. He's good, and the third one looks perfect.

 

"Starling," I growl and she jumps like she's been tazered. A crooked finger makes her slink over like a wary alley cat and I grab her neck again, making her bristle and relax all at the same time. "Don't get pissy with me. I have no problem throwing you over that counter and tanning your ass right here."

 

The jacket is a perfect fit and I run my hands over her torso, knowing that I'm torturing her again. Barely concealing what I'm doing from the gorilla, I slide my hand lower and lower, cupping around the heated seam of Lee's jeans, her pelvis jerking helplessly into my caressing hand, her hands digging into my jacket. A few strokes of my finger has her on her toes, breathing hard, desperately trying to stay quiet, eyes screwed shut.

 

When I pull away and stand up straight, she whimpers. Something catches my eye and I growl at Lee, "What size shoe do you wear?"

 

It takes a moment for her green eyes to focus and she jumps when I squeeze her neck, forcing out the number and I flash the guy a hard 'what that hell are you waiting for' look. The boots are sculptures of black leather and tiny silver studs with a chunky sole and good four-inch stiletto heels.

 

(Curious? Go peek! <http://www.zappos.com/n/p/p/7331476.html> )

 

I pull the zippers on the heels down and drop the femme-boots to the floor, toeing them upright before quirking the pierced eyebrow demandingly at Lee. Shuddering, she twists herself to pull off her left sneaker and yank her sock tight. With an expert slither of movement, she slips her foot into the boot and jerks the zipper up, quickly repeating the process with the other. The things give her some noticeable height, her jeans falling over the tops of them.

 

"Now," I growl, "I can wear you proudly on the back of my bike."

 

"Stockroom's in the back," The biker gorilla grunts and I don't need to hear it twice. With that hard grip on Lee's neck, I march her in back, noting how differently her body moves in the tottering heels. The long muscles in her legs are flexed snug, her ass high and tense. 

 

There's a reason women suffer the stupid things.

 

The stockroom is even more cluttered than the main floor, but it also has something I was hoping for; a big pile of unboxed leather merchandise, just about hip height to my pet. With a shove, Lee is thrust over the pile, her voice warbling almost comically in lust and confusion. So, I crack my left hand across her ass and growl, "don't move."

 

Panting and whimpering, Lee trembles, but remains unmoving even when I wrap my hands around her narrow waist and jerk her fly loose to roughly pull jeans and underwear to her ankles.

 

Leaving her there in that vulnerable position, I crouch and yank my bag open, fumbling for the toy case. I have to jerk chaps and jeans loose to get it situated, twice cracking Lee across the ass with a snarl to keep her tense and ready. One end of the articulated toy slides deep and snug into the clutch of my wet pussy, the thin straps up the crack of my ass pull over hipbones and clip to the toy on either side of my clit. Then I can click the business end of the thing straight and at a jaunty angle, hissing at the stimulation. Clumsy, I jerk the pants back up over my ass, not buttoning up, and crouch again for a condom and a quick squirt of lube.

 

"Gonna fuck you right off those heels, dancer," I snarl, looming over Lee's smaller body.

 

She squalls like a wild cat when I ram home.

 

Hot and horny as a bitch in heat, I fuck her like the toy was my own flesh and blood, feeling the thick, jelly-like layer beneath the silicone shell pulse with my thrusting. Sinking my teeth into her thick hair, I snarl and plant my feet to run us both over the finish line. I break first, feeling the rush spiral up from crotch to spine to brain, my senses offline for a moment. 

 

Lee wails as my jerking hips and the rough press of my teeth on her scalp finishes the job, her body convulsing with pleasure.

 

"Hot, holy, fucking hell," Lee groans breathlessly, body submissive and trembling beneath mine. The animal rut is fading and I have to chuckle weakly. Our mutual arousal and the leather-filled shop has done its job and done it well.

 

Lee hisses and whines and tries to kick as I slowly retreat, giving her a couple inches back as evil tease before finally pulling out. Carefully stripping off the condom, I effectively collapse to my knees to grab her clothes and tug them into some semblance of order.

 

God I want to bury my face between her legs and taste her so damn bad…

 

But the rules win out and I brace her until she can stand and finish pulling her underwear and pants into place. Collapsing to the floor on my ass, I reach for the bag even as Lee slithers down into my lap to cuddle. Both of us are soaked with sweat in this stuffy, broiling space, dressed like this, after the hard exercise. So I fish out a bottle of water from the bag, downing half of it without coming up for air and handing it off. Quickly, it's emptied and the second quickly follows before Lee rests her head under my chin and I relax back into the pile of leathers.

 

"I'm buying this whole damn ensemble," she finally says quietly and I huff with amusement. "Did you see anything you liked?"

 

Snorting, I hug her and close my eyes for a moment. "I wasn't looking to be honest. I just wanted to make sure you were as safe as humanly possible. You're a hell of a sexy distraction. Tell you what. I'll put it on the company tab and you can pay Michael back. No paper trail with your distinctive name on it then."

 

"Deal. Thanks Dace."

 

What I really want is a nap, but that's not possible. So I shake Lee away from her near doze, helping her to her feet, marveling at how graceful she is in this new footwear.

 

"Dunno that I could manage four inch heels," I marvel and she smirks enticingly.

 

"I've managed worse and these are actually really comfortable."

 

The sassy little femme sashays out of the stock room with a sexy, loose-hipped wiggle and I have to scramble to get everything back in the bag, wincing as I roughly jerk the toy to get it to lie against my leg fairly discreetly and yank my pants into order.

 

I'm still buckling the chaps as I stumble back into the sales area, glowering at an entirely unrepentant Lee. The gorilla's face has yet to change, even when Lee's girlie squeal startles both of us. "You have to wear this to the theater! God, they'll shit themselves!" It's a vest that she proudly bounces over with, the leather thin and silky soft and nicely stitched with heavy silver snaps up the front. "My treat," she cajoles and I shrug off the jacket to try the thing on. Sometimes it's best to just shut the hell up and accept a gift from a lady.

 

It's a decent fit, but the second one is even better. It molds close enough to my slender torso to be enticing, without being blatant. When the guy rings us up and hands over the slip to be signed, the amount is hefty, but the merchandise is good and he volunteered the privacy of the stockroom. With no hesitation I slap on a two hundred dollar tip, sign my name and leave with a smile.

 

Lee reminds me of a happy kid, bouncing down the street to park her ass on the bike, hooking the perilous heels over the pegs like she's always been there, leaning back on her hands to bat her eyelashes playfully. "You are a minx," I admire and she laughs prettily, putting on the helmet when I hand it over so that I can strap the bag back down behind her ass. Thumping my weight onto the Road King, I start her up and check traffic. "The lab's close and then we can goof off. I'm starving too, all the sudden. Can't imagine why."

 

Lee giggles the entire half mile to the lab.

 

The stop takes less than ten minutes as the tech draws a little bit of blood and I input some bare-bones info about her in my account. Because I can, I put a rush on it, thankful that the lab seems slow right now anyway. "Call me on the STD, ASAP," I instruct the tech and she nods. "Anything else is icing at this point."

 

"Yes sir."

 

Then we're back at the bike and Lee sends me east to a highway that leads to a southbound 678. I couldn't give a crap less where we're going, I just like the wind in my face and the feel of her body wrapped around me with the big motorcycle growling beneath us like a living thing. The highway becomes a bridge, LaGuardia airport to the southwest and the forest of skyscrapers beyond.

 

Skirting JFK airport further south, we're headed into Michael's neck of the woods in Long Island and there are a few things I recognize from being here before. Lee directs me to an obscure and ancient strip mall that looks like it's going to collapse under its own weight that turns out to house a Jewish deli that smells like heaven. The food tastes even better than it smells and I tear into it and growl like a dog, making her giggle, then howl with laughter.


	5. Chapter 5

Over lunch Lee tells me how she dropped the 't' in her last name because everyone mispronounced it and how her folks are totally ordinary people. I tell her about growing up in my own personal hell and how I got out and then fell in with the woman who would be my Mistress for a decade and a half. I'm impressed that she's released two albums of her own and is soon off to film a movie in South Africa. She's startled that I've spent so much of my kinky career on my knees with my head bowed. I tell her that it was the only thing that tamed me, allowing me to become a productive member of society. She sketches out her talent and how it tortured her until she found a focus in the theater, never expecting to be where she is. I talk about being a cop but skirt the story of the scars. It's difficult to explain how it happened without compromising things that I can't talk about, but she's quite satisfied that it was work related.

Then she notes that it's getting close to four o'clock and squeaks in alarm. "Fuck! We gotta go! I'm supposed to rehearse with Jan today! Dammit!"

While she settles the bill, I dial Michael, not knowing if she's up or not. "Hey Dace," her throaty voice greets me warmly. "Having fun?"

"We'll call it even for this particular errand because, frankly, I got the best part of this deal. Just restock the corporate card so that Tessa's books are accurate."

Michael chuckles, "I'll do that. But your tone says that this isn't a social call about your project."

"It's related. We're behind schedule and I need someone to grab your bike from me at the Hirschman. Right now we're out a couple miles north and a bit east of your estate."

"By the time, I'm guessing she's supposed to be there by four? Not going to happen my friend. Traffic's going to be a bitch. You might slip some of it with that thing, but you're going to be better off parking it as close as you can get and braving the sidewalks or the subway. Surely you can protect one little femme."

"Shut up Fenris," I playfully growl, using her old play name from our much younger days. "Yeah, but get me a courier for the bike in case I win the traffic god lottery. I know you have this damn thing GPSed."

"I do. Have your new pal call me with your phone if you need anything on the drive."

"Done! Thanks Fen."

"Anytime!"

Lee's already on the bike, on her own cell phone, obviously explaining that she's going to be late. With embarrassed outrage she squeaks at the other end of the line to shut up. 

"Somebody teasing you?" I chuckle as we get underway.

"I figured Joe was my best bet to not take as much shit for being late and walking in with you and dressed like this. Except Lorna answered the damn thing! Now the whole damn building is gonna be on my ass the second I walk in."

She's amused and consternated by all of this and I'm not sure what to do. "Should I just drop you off?"

For a long couple of minutes she remains quiet as I retrace our steps in the unusually light traffic. "Everybody really likes you. Me included. And they didn't even get the last… what's it been? Sixteen hours or so. Our lives get kinda insular and when reality drops in it's not always a good thing. We all acted like ourselves around you and I don't think I've ever seen this group do that with a stranger. We always have the game face on around strangers, y'know?"

"Completely," I agree with her wholeheartedly, warmed by the compliments. "But they're still going to give you crap."

Lee just groans.

The trip back into downtown is eerily quick, the bike dodging in and out of traffic like a hunting lioness in a herd of wildebeests. We slow down once actually in the concrete canyons, but manage to stay moving, so she doesn't ditch me to hoof it to the theater. The whole time she's been singing seemingly to herself, scales and fragments of songs and I can only guess that she's warming up. We get a few odd looks here and there, Lee's sweet tones muffled where she's got her face pressed to the space between my shoulder blades.

Astonishingly, it only takes us ten minutes and the Hirschman is looming close. "Grab my bag," I tell Lee and she scrabbles to loosen the backpack and slip one of the straps over her shoulder. "This is going to a tricky handoff, so get ready to scramble."

"What?"

There's a suit there, who flashes a Spades card in gold, so I know he's high on the food chain. "Grab the bike!" I yell at him as we're still crawling with traffic at a slow jog. Smoothly, he grabs the handlebars as I slither off the still moving bike, grab Lee, snatch the keys from the ignition, swat Lee onto the curb with a squawk of surprise, trot awkwardly beside the silent bike to unlock the saddlebag, grab the red duffel, shove in the bungie, hand the guy the keys and helmet to grab the wheel well. "Got it! Get on!" 

The bike roars back to life and he's got control of it, taking the next corner and is gone. Smirking, I step up onto the curb only inches away from a truly pissed off taxi and turn to a gawking Lee and a small audience to bow deeply like a matador. "Ole!"

I actually get scattered applause. 

"Performance art," I smirk at Lee, who rolls her eyes as I turn her and shove her at the doors.

"At least they give me a safety harness when they make me fly," she snarks.

We're still cracking up as we stumble into the theater. 

They're all startled as hell at the noisy entrance, staring as we trot down the carpet. Feeling mischievous, I pull ahead, crouching against the edge of the stage, my fingers laced together between my bent knees.

I don't know how, but she picks up my idea, planting one of those sexy new boots into my cupped hands to that I can stand and heave her over the edge of the stage where she lands with barely a wobble.

Cast and crew alike just stare.

Completely nonchalant, Lee cocks a hip to plant her fist there and drawls, "What? You said I was late."

Crying I'm laughing so hard, exhausted and wound up from the last less than a day of my life turned upside-down, I sit there on the floor, my back braced on the edge of the stage. Winded and still wracked with chuckles, I hang my head between my knees, hands dangling in mid air.

"Are you okay, Dace?" Lorna asks almost timidly from above me and I tilt my head back to grin at her.

"Exhausted with trying to keep up with that one."

"I bet. Can we get you anything?" 

"Is there any water?"

"Of course!"

Grabbing Lee's red bag, I flop flat to the cool floor with my head pillowed on it and prop my left boot on my raised right knee. Several peaceful minutes pass while I relax there on the floor of the Hirschman Theater and its lovely cool air conditioning. Talented voices rise and fall around me in waves of sound.

But my sensitive hearing still catches the timid footsteps on the carpet and I swallow a grin, forcing myself to lie limp and still. Always wait for the prey to get as close as possible to maximize the chance of a successful attack.

"Is she awake?" Lorna whispers like a little girl after too many ghost stories.

"Is she alive?" Eve giggles softly and I have identified which set of footfalls belong to which woman. Good, I owe Lee's standby for starting the shirt signing incident. When I lash out and grab her ankle, making her shriek like a b-grade movie actress, the entire theater goes quiet except for Lorna's squeals of laughter.

The scowling skinny man that growled at the actresses last evening peers over the edge of the stage, his expression wry. "Are you quite done distracting my actors?" he enunciates very clearly and a bit condescendingly and I shrug and wave.

"Sorry. I'll just lie here quietly. Really, not a sound."

Rolling his eyes, he retreats and my companions hunker down with stifled giggles. "That was mean," Eve pouts and I wave her off.

"You're young and in good shape. A good scare on occasion keeps your heart healthy."

"Yeah," Lorna teases, poking at her pal, who squirms, "we could use the excitement."

Rolling to my side, I prop my head in my hand and eye the two of them. They bear passing resemblances to the women they shadow in body type and coloring, but they are very much individuals. "So, you take their spot if they can't perform, right?" They nod obediently. "Do you get to do anything else?" They shake their heads this time. "That's gotta be boring as fuck."

"No, fucking's far more interesting," Lorna sasses and Eve chokes on laughter.

Really, there's something strangely childlike about the whole gang of these people. It's their manic energy, their delight in things that many would ignore, a creative spark that sends them out to outrageous lengths to pour themselves into an audience and soak them up in return. They were the class clowns and the kids that make up stories to entertain their families and friends. Troublemakers or painfully shy, they all fell into this somehow, scratching their way to this level of their peculiar food chain.

But similar things can be said of me.

A jaw-cracking yawn floods my eyes with moisture again and Lorna opens her mouth to sass again, triggering off animal instincts swirled up with human weakness and emotion. She yipes not quite as loud as Eve as I grab her ankle where she sits nearby and bodily haul her over to me. Grabbing her shirt front, I smile a wicked, feral smile and her blue eyes round. Nose to nose with her, I purr, "Watch over me, pretty girl. I'm tired and you're bored and Eve's mad at me for scaring her." Jerking her closer, close enough that my mouth almost brushes hers, my voice drops low and gravelly. "Guard me."

Bodily planting the younger woman against my belly so she'll be comfy, I curl my arm under my head and enjoy her muttered, "sheesh, yes ma'am."

To the strains of music I recognize but don't entirely know, and the quiet sound of Eve's chuckling, I anchor my frazzled senses to the stranger pressing my body to the solid surface behind me and doze off.

My perceptions swim shallow, a voice speaking and my guardian's voice vibrating against my belly, her small frame squirming against mine until I paw at her to be still. Again when her body curls into the front of mine. A third time to a soaring crescendo of women's voice that I recognize from last night and as a favorite of the singers of my clan. "Who can say if I've been changed for the better? I do believe that I have been changed for the better."

Blearily, I wake, blinking in confusion at where I am. One voice croons, "and, because I loved you."

A sweet reply of, "because I loved you," the words swelling high and melodic. 

I perk up, intrigued the feeling and the words, still not quite awake.

"Because I loved you," the chorus one more time together and I'm struck by the poignancy of these words and notes I recognize, but have never heard like this before. Staring up at the edge of the stage that hides my sight from the singers, I lie still and soak it up. "I have been changed for good."

Definitely some song here I could grow to love.

"Y'know," Lorna comments idly where she's curled along my chest and legs and I start in surprise. "Normally when my bedmate wakes up with one of those for me, I know I'm in for a good time."

I must be more tired than I think I am, because I'm baffled… until she wiggles her ass back into me. The movement jostles the phallus where it has been held in and against my body for a long time now, making me hiss.

"Must have been some consult," she adds dryly, perched on one elbow, looking at me.

Sighing, I rest my skull in the crook of stage and floor to scrub my face with both hands. Oh for fuck sake, I'm still wearing the driving gloves too? "You people have wreaked the strangest havoc on my life."

"We have?" she laughs and shifts to painstakingly climb to her feet. "Come on bossy. I bet you need to shake yourself out after sleeping on the floor."

Sitting up, I gingerly twist my torso to test that everything still seems to be in working order before slowly getting up to stretch. Feeling a bit better with blood circulation returning to normal, I eye Lorna speculatively. "I haven't lied to any of you. Yes, the security consult thing is flimsy, but that's what me and Jaye's friend do. Well, it's one of the things we do." Lorna's smile deepens. "And I really do have senses like a cat. No lie. Luckily in this overcrowded place, no one really took any note of her. Or me for that matter. I suppose that anonymity can be handy."

"You're up," a familiar voice says flatly and I jump and turn half around to find myself faced with a pair of dainty feet in killer heels leading to some really nice legs. Eyes quickly snapping up, I find myself faced with Regina Danowitz again. This is not the first time I've had the racial memory, lizard brain reaction that most women have to me take on a darker turn. She doesn't like me and she doesn't trust me and she's borderline hostile and she doesn't fully understand why. I know as much as anyone does as to the why, but can do absolutely nothing about it. "We've got an hour to eat and settle down. Come on back, both of you."

Silently, Lorna starts to move off and I grab my bag and Lee's to follow. My phone buzzes and I find it in my jacket chest pocket, fumbling it open. "Cath?"

"You sound half-asleep, Dace. Everything okay? You're broadcasting pretty loudly tonight."

Sighing, I duck past some cables after the much smaller Lorna. "Back at the theater again, though I haven't a clue what to do with myself at this point. Are we still headed back in the morning?"

"As far as I know. Should we come to you now? It'll take some time, but the kittens are mewling."

"How has their mood been?"

"Just like mine. Energetic. You must have had some serious fun today."

"Dunno that serious is the word, but yeah, she's a ton of fun. This whole gang of vulgar children is a ton of fun."

Lorna chuckles in tandem with my mate.

"Well, we'll call when we get closer and you can send someone out for us or come get us yourself, okay?"

"'Kay. Love to you and the pack."

"You too."

Down yet the millionth crowded and dingy hallway in this rabbit warren, Lorna hangs a right into a door and I almost cringe at the welcome that warns me what I'm in for. And I still haven't managed to duck away long enough to find a toilet and get this damn dick off, or find water, so I'm too parched to need to actually pee…

My internal ramble stops as my footfalls carry me to the doorway and I in turn get roared at in welcome. There are many more of them this time, the faces I know mixed in with the strangers and I suddenly realize that I'm in a truly dangerous situation.

Oh, none of them understand it; they have no means of understanding it.

But I do.

With a growl and a helpless look at several pairs of familiar eyes, not the least of which is my new pet, I have to retreat. That overstimulated burn is starting up in the base of my brain, my senses starting to short circuit in my skull. Desperately, I reach out for Catherine, whining at the fire in my brain.

No! I cannot do this here! There are too many smells choking me, too many small tunnels to get lost in, too many rabbits to hurt…

I nearly jump right out of my boots at the sound of a small bark, the high-pitched, absurd noise shattering through my sensory feedback. Completely confused, I stare at… at…

At Regina's little yappy dog.

I'm in a room, a crowded but neat space that my dialed-up eyes can see clearly even in the near-darkness. Children's drawings of a leather and bronze-clad warrior holding a sword and the distinctive round chakram festoon the walls. In some the figure faces off with the giant eyes I saw yesterday, in some she rides or leads a gold horse. The smell of my new pet is very strong here and I'll take whatever anchor I can get at this moment. 

The phone stops buzzing and my sudden calm is reflected back to me from Catherine.

The dog whines curiously, standing just at the edge of where I must have shouldered the door open so that I could retreat in here. She's a cute animal and obviously adored; much like the dogs back at my home who tolerate and occasionally even like me. At a loss of what to do with myself, I twist away from where I've been huddled against the wall to lay on my chest and rest my chin on my crossed arms.

"Hey," I whisper to the little animal and she cocks her head curiously. "Sorry I scared you cutie, but your humans freak me out a little. I think maybe I've made a few too many friends, y'know?"

As though realizing that I'm actually harmless, the dog trots up and licks my nose.

"Dace? Dammit, where did she go?"

It's Reg's voice, close by, and I know that I have to explain myself. Argh…

The dog is yapping for attention now. "Lily? What are doing in Lee's dressing… oh."

That flatness on that last word is all for me and I sigh. Bright light flashes agonizingly through the thin barrier of my eyelids and I whine for mercy. "No lights!" I beg, clapping my hands over my eyes. "I can't dial everything down right now. Please!"

The dog's tongue feels rougher than it really is as she seems determined to clean my nose right off my face, despite my gloved hands over my eyes.

"Are you okay?"

For the first time, this woman has gentled to me. I'm prostrate on the floor with her five pound spoiled lap dog kissing my face. Really, how scary can I be?

"I have over-heightened senses that I can't always control," I murmur as the small woman steps quietly into the room and I hear the sounds of her kneeling or sitting next to… Lily was it? "It's a side effect from the blow I took to the head."

"Oh," Reg says simply. "You looked like you'd seen a ghost back there."

"I knew this was coming and bolted. It can be dangerous if I start flailing around."

It's not the whole truth, but it's part of it, and all that I can tell. When I cross my arms again to rest my aching head, Lily amuses me by insinuating herself into the small space to continue slobbering on me. It takes a minute for the emotion to register in a rolling chuckle of childlike amusement at the small beast who suddenly seems determined to get some kind of reaction.

Obviously my soft amusement is what she wanted as she looks pleased and trots over to her human to be picked up and cuddled.

"Dogs don't like me," I grunt as I shift to sit up. "She's extraordinary. I actually feel much better now."

For the first time, Regina smiles at me.

After a few long moments of peaceful quiet, Reg carefully stands up and looks down at me with an unfathomable expression on her face. "Too much company?"

"Only for those few moments of sensory overload. But maybe I better go so that you guys can get back to your lives. Lee's as safe as she can be here."

"The others are worried. Stay long enough that I can at least reassure them that you seem to be fine. And Lee looked like she was going to burst into tears when you went white and raced off like that. At least see her so that she knows you're okay?"

I can't resist the faint plea in her voice, not because of her small concern for me, but her very real concern for her friend. "I'll stay."

"Good."

Quiet falls over me as Reg leaves and I can filter out the sounds of the busy building around me, dialing down hearing, touch, smell and at last, the oversensitivity of my eyes. Even the acrid taste in my mouth fades and I remember my thirst again.

A few peaceful minutes pass when the click of trotting high-heels heads my way. Without a sound, Lee closes the busted door behind her and tosses my backpack down to hold it shut.

"Could you get the lights, please?"

She really does look worried, but softens when I look her square in the eye. Still quiet, she comes over and I barely have time to sit back before she drapes herself into my lap and hugs me tightly.

"Thanks," I murmur into her neck after a long moment, stroking my cheek along hers before leaning my head back on the wall.

"Reg said you needed me," she reassures me quietly and shrugs. "I mean, you found your way back here somehow. I'm glad I could be a source of comfort to you."

Humming affirmatively, I let the calm fully settle in this quiet, safe place.

"I brought you that bottle of water Eve and Lorna promised you ages ago," Lee speaks up very quietly after a few minutes and I sigh a very quiet thank you against her ear and drink half the bottle. Leaning back onto my shoulder, she smiles warmly at me and suddenly giggles, "they were beside themselves with guilt. Like a pair of kicked puppies. It was cute."

"I think they still are."

Covering Lee's ear, I whistle a piercing note through carefully pursed lips. Low voices outside the busted door ratchet up in surprise at the sound.

"Get up if you don't want more questions," I soothe Lee, giving her a squeeze and releasing my hold. She snorts in amusement before kissing me soundly.

"They'll ask anything that comes to mind no matter what the circumstances. At least now I can give them something to talk about."

"You asked for it," I chuckle before raising my voice. "Stop hovering you two! Come in."

Hesitantly, Lorna pushes open the door, Eve right on her heels, practically attached to each other. They mince in, Reg completely amused by them where she stands in the doorway. After a moment, the understudies look at each other, whimper like kids and dogpile onto me and Lee.

"We're so sorry," they bawl in stereo and I can't help but chuckle and grab them in twin headlocks, lightly headbutting them with affection.

"You didn't do anything, you dorks," I purr as Lee wiggles in the middle of the pile with a murmur of amused protest and I squeeze the whole lot of them until they breathlessly gasp for mercy. "My unusually acute senses merely got overwhelmed. This place is a rabbit warren and it's dark and crowded and is full of smells that you aren't even aware of. It was just animal panic."

Eve gets a wet, sloppy kiss in the slope where nose arches into eyebrow and Lorna at the corner of her smiling mouth.

"Now," my voice is suddenly businesslike and they watch me with their opposing-colored gazes. "Would you lead me out in a few minutes? I need to get to my pack and they're close now." They nod, still silent, and I brush nose and cheeks with them affectionately. "Will you give me a couple minutes to say goodbye? And Reg looks like she has something to say."

"We'll wait," Eve promises, returning the almost-kisses shyly before levering herself up and hauling a squawking Lorna up to quickly evacuate the room. Reg pushes the door shut, once again shoving my bag up against it and moves to set down a plate of food and a bottled drink on what must be the makeup table. 

She eyes us, Lee curled up almost timidly under my chin and I'm struck by the conflict in her crystalline blue eyes. There's a whole sea of mixed emotions between these two and it's quite fascinating and a bit sad. When Lee takes a deep breath, one small hand whips up in a halting motion. "I don’t want an explanation and frankly, I don't care what's really going on. But," the sweet voice drops low and growly with seriousness and takes me aback as Reg looms over me, glowering into my like-colored eyes. "If you hurt her, I will find you and find a way to kick your ass."

I'm too fascinated and frankly, not a little turned on by this fierce little creature, to even consider offence and nod seriously. "Yes ma'am."

The silent look exchanged between the two actresses is like watching someone defusing a bomb, it's that loaded. With a visible effort of a personality more powerful than most would expect, Reg tears herself away and leaves with movements stiff and barely coordinated, her silence evocative. All I can think is that there is something between them that will obviously never come to light and a complex personality like hers might never understand the haunting wound on her soul that will never go away.

Being overly observant does suck some days.

"I guess you have to go now," Lee says softly, her fingertip tracing around where the heart tattoo lies beneath my shirt. She has no idea of her effect on people, I realize with a start, at least not her full effect. I've known these sorts before, the raw power of charisma that the wielder seems oblivious of. Thankfully, this sweet woman has found a damn healthy outlet for hers.

Doesn't mean that she hasn't broken a whole damn lot of unsuspecting hearts over the years.

Oh well, she's not mine to have and worry over. Which is a good thing and a bad thing, obviously. Growling, I pull her chin up and kiss her soundly, roughly, drinking in her little needy sounds. Holding her chin, I take a last long look into the mercurial mossy eyes and rub noses with her. "Don't forget me."

"Not gonna fucking happen."

"Same here." 

She's a good hugger, putting her whole body into the embrace before I help her stand and climb up myself. Definitely spent too much damn time on the fucking floors of this place. A last caress over the dark, glossy hair and over her strong jaw and I smile melancholy. "See ya around, Starling."

She just smiles sadly as I grab my bag and force myself to walk away.

My guides are silent as they lead me through the rat's maze and once more into the silent sea of empty seats. There is scattered activity back on the stage and echoing up from the orchestra pit and I can only shake my head at how surreal my life has been in…

Less than thirty hours.

Oy. 

Catherine is close now, I can feel it. It's time to go.

At the glass doors that separate the Hirschman Theater from the hectic world outside, I pause and scoop up Eve and Lorna for a long moment to squeeze them hard. "Next time I'm in town, hopefully I'll get some time to hang with you two." They giggle breathlessly as I set them down and grin wickedly. "Maybe you can even show me your little show."

Spluttering, they feign outrage and I retreat with a laugh and a wave over my shoulder. In the faded heat of evening, I stand at the curb and wait for my pack, knowing that I will never forget my trip into this unusual world of the theater.

 

THE END…


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A promise is collected and leads to more fun and games in the Big Apple.

++ Dace ++

 

(6-20-04)

 

"Dace, my dear, there you are," Anastasia greets me warmly as I step into her office and return the smile. "I've hardly seen you since you got back from the Big Apple. How was the trip?"

 

It took a long time for me and the boss to get past old issues and get to this place of respect and comfort, but it was worth all of it. I appreciate my relationship with this powerful, elegant woman because I had to work hard for it. She chuckles at me when I gather her into a hug and kiss her cheek.

 

"It was… eventful."

 

"I gathered that by the unusual phone call I received a few hours ago."

 

Now she has me curious and I park my butt in the chair across her desk from her and give her my full attention. "Oh?"

 

Smiling coyly, Anastasia doesn't answer for a long moment, making me wait for it. I don't mind the affectionate power play, it keeps things interesting and I easily school myself to patience. Women like Anastasia are not to be rushed. They make their own rules and all others are expected to obey. She does this with an even hand, but only a fool mistakes her refinement as weakness. This woman can be as gracious as a fairy-tale queen or as deadly as a shark.

 

"Someone named Lorna Mae Malloy?"

 

I'm not surprised that one of my pals tracked me down, just by the effort that she had to have gone through to do so. She would have had to persuade Jaye to contact Michael and then sway the King of Spades to put her through to the Queen of Hearts. Hope that girl realizes that she's playing with fire!

 

"She was rather sweetly adamant that you simply must return to New York to see their show and sooner rather than later."

 

Groaning in amused consternation, I scrub my hands over my face and slouch down into the comfortable chair. "Honestly, I'd love to, but I don't want to separate the girls from Rose again so soon. And I'm not quite ready to stop nursing them yet."

 

"From what the rambling dear implied, that won't be a problem."

 

Now she has my attention and I focus, sitting back up. "What do you mean?"

 

"She swore up and down that the nearly the entire cast was behind her and would figure out how to get the whole clan in."

 

Staring in disbelief at my merrily grinning boss, I do a few rapid calculations and blurt out, "but there's at least twentyish of us."

 

"My rough list, while on the line with her, was twenty-five."

 

(7-13-04)

 

And here we are, twenty-three days later.

 

Knowing what a big deal the play will be to the kids, I've built a five day vacation around the event, including a fancy bus-coach at our disposal the entire time, hired from the ranks of the Spades to keep the whole bunch of us together. It's a beautiful old bus that can hold nearly twice our numbers and driven by a friendly soft butch named Lynn that the kids like immediately. The fleet of baby carriers is stowed carefully in the plush seats and we all press to the windows as the bus pulls away from the private plane area of JFK airport. Anastasia finagled the company plane for this trip to add to the excitement.

 

Fawn has plastered herself to my side, staring out the window and up at me by turns. "Unca Dace, why won't you tell us what the big surprise is?" She wheedles again and I laugh. The four and half year old has been trying for two weeks to find out what the big mystery is. Thankfully, she barely understands where we are, much less why we're here as her parents and older sister are in on the secret. 

 

"Look over there," I instruct and point out the window to the west where the sun is beginning to spectacularly set behind the bristling skyline. "That is New York city, the biggest city in the whole United States." All the kids are craning their necks, some of them moving from one side of the bus to the other with parental assistance. "All those big buildings you see? Some of them are so tall that they block out sunlight unless it's right in the middle of the day and the sun is right overhead."

 

I've been banking on Fawn not immediately figuring out that her beloved Broadway is here in this very city and I can draw out the surprise until we get dropped off at the Hirschman tomorrow.

 

"And in the middle of the city is Central Park, which is huge!"

 

With the bus driver helping out, the kids stay entertained on the drive. Eventually we pull up to Charlie and Nikki's building in the heart of the Bronx where we'll be staying and pile out to retrieve our luggage from under the bus. Our family and friends that inhabit this city are mostly here to greet us and lend helping hands into the restaurant on the ground floor so that we can wave Lynn off until we need her again tomorrow. 

 

Anastasia, Tessa and I spent up until the last second getting the House of Hearts prepped to run without any of us for the better part of a week until the van roused us from sleep this afternoon. My poor CSIs are more exhausted than we are, having barely catnapped when a case kept them up and running well into the day. Thankfully, much of the clan is mostly diurnal and kept the youngest among us pretty well occupied so that those that needed sleep could do some catch up.

 

"Mom! Dace! Sara!"

 

In a streak of gold and red, we are set upon by a happily squealing Lindsey. Rather than have the ten year old bowl her mother ass over teakettle, I set the twins down and step in to bodily accept the charge, stepping away from the crowd of people to whirl her around before pawing Catherine into the cuddle. Then Sara jumps in and we all squeeze each other, Lindsey giggling in the middle of the crush.

 

"So what's the big surprise?"

 

Rolling my eyes, I have to fondly complain, "What is it with you kids having no patience for a big surprise? You and your pack," my raised voice includes Lindsey's teenage Guide and their constant shadow of Gloria, "need to not ask any more questions and get the little ones more curious than they already are. _Comprende_?"

 

"Fine," they chorus and I set Lindsey down so that she can hug her mother and Sara properly. With a quick squeeze for Jamie, I pick up the baby carriers where I'd set them at Karen's feet. Pretty soon I won't be able to wrestle them around in the carriers as their walking skills get better and better.

 

Inside is the big, noisy reunion we all expect as hugs, kisses and hellos are passed around along with spaghetti, pizza and enough sandwiches for an army. I love Rosa-Jo's, owned and run by Jo's folks, and the complex of apartments in the building above. A few minutes to get our things settled into the quartet of furnished apartments that the Spades keep rented for reasons just like this and we're back downstairs to eat and socialize until the kids start dropping off one by one.

 

The baby explosion in this group is monstrously amusing to me. Nine babies of which my three are the eldest, then five toddlers and Emily's little pack. 

 

I startle as familiar weight crashes into my leg, hooking a hand around Katie's back to steady her. My feline trill of greeting is returned in her little kitten noise that has been our greeting since she was so tiny and helpless. No longer that feeble cub; Katie in particular is a strong and determined bundle of energy, even now trying her damnedest to claw up my leg. The animal need to climb amuses me hugely and everyone has to wear some kind of long pants around my rug rats or risk scratches from sharp little baby nails. To give my daughter the sense of accomplishment she craves, I heave her onto my thigh, letting her stand there, supported by my encircling arm. When her grasping hands get to close to my face, a firm 'no' stops her. Discipline and patience are so important to my two and Rose, so tightly bound together and with such extraordinary abilities. 

 

"Unca Dace?" Comes Rose's sweet little voice near my elbow and I see that she has Sandy in tow, sucking on her fingers. "Sanie's hun'ry."

 

"So I see. Let's move over there where we can all sit more comfortably, okay?"

 

"'Kay."

 

Passing off the still-active Katie to Sara, I settle into a booth to unbutton my shirt and cradle Sandy to my torso so that she can settle in to nurse for awhile. With my feet braced on the seat, Rose can lean onto my shins and pet Sandy's hair, talking softly in the mostly nonsense language the three of them share. The words don't matter, just the loving attention in her voice.

 

Luckily for me, the diurnal members of the clan have agreed to take on herding my youngsters to help out my pack so that everyone can have fun. After the next couple of days, they also know that I will take on the bulk of theirs in thanks.

 

But the next couple of days are for my pals on Broadway. They've gone to great lengths to get me back here and I look forward to spending time with them again. Especially Starling! Though the cute little standbys have me curious as hell…

 

The bulk of the adults and kids are tired and ready for bed. Sandy has fallen asleep on my chest and Katie is draped all over Olivia while her brother is passed out in the woman's lap. So Sandy and Rose are gathered up and only us night owls are left behind.

 

Michael trots back in after taking Jo and the kids up to their apartment upstairs and flops down into the booth where I've got Tessa in an affectionate half-embrace, making her giggle. Sara's tapping away on her laptop nearby with Catherine leaning on her, reading a book. We don't get a lot of the simple downtime that most people are used to and they're eating it up. Anastasia chats with Gabe while Karen laughs at something Zo is ranting and gesticulating about.

 

These are the moments that stick with me.

 

After a long night of screwing off with my family and friends, I grab my packmates and we go upstairs to jump on a sleepy Sofia for some proper bonding.

 

"Daddy?" Sara purrs softly, a pleasant wake up call, her beautiful mouth tickling behind my ear. Growling playfully and reaching back to grab her hip and grind her body into mine gets a squeak of startled arousal. So I twist around to jump on her, still warm and bleary with more sleep than I'm used to, kissing her for all I'm worth.

 

Whatever she has to tell me must wait during these moments as we bond anew in this calm place with no work and few responsibilities. Once I get her moaning that throaty sound I love so in this woman, I lean my head back to grin at her. Catherine and I are bonded through a genetic connection that has certainly turned to love with time, but Sara chose us. I will never forget that gift.

 

"What can I do for you, Sunshine?" I chuckle and watch her sharp intellect fight free of the tendrils of lust that has turned her dark eyes to charcoal.

 

"There's… there's a woman downstairs that says she has something for you. She said her name is Eve?"

 

"Excellent," I chortle and kiss Sara once more before climbing out of the bed and reaching for my discarded jammie pants and tank top. "If you stay put, I'll be back in a few minutes."

 

Sara only smiles sweetly in response to my invite and I trot down the several flights of stairs in high spirits.

 

"E!" I bellow like a rutting bison and Eve jumps as though goosed, whirling around in barely enough time to accept my crushing hug. Giggling breathlessly, she grabs me around the neck and allows the manhandling, her feet dangling well off the floor. "So," ask conversationally, still gripping her to my taller body, "what can I do for you?"

 

The faint turmoil in the dark eyes confirms that she's still conflicted about her reactions to me, a situation I've been in before. "Umm," she hedges and shakes some sense back into her addled brain. "I brought something for you."

 

I can't stop the perverse urge to let her slide down my body, feeling our curves tease together and getting her to flush. From a floppy messenger bag, I now note that she's dressed in proper bicycling gear, she whips out a battered, plain mailing envelope. "As promised, here I am with package in hand."

 

A quick glance around confirms that none of the kids are here, obviously out somewhere with the other grownups. Inside the thrashed envelope is a thick stack of slightly bent cardstock slips. They fan out in my expert fingers, like the winning hand in high-stakes poker. Grinning warmly at the woman, I have to hug her again after tucking the tickets into my pocket. "You guys are the best. The kids are gonna freak over this."

 

"It's worth it. So, Lorna and I will come find you in the lobby by the base of the staircase that will be to your left when you enter, okay? Give us fifteen minutes or so after the houselights come up for the crowd to drain out and we'll be there."

 

"Done! You sure this is no big deal?"

 

"After all the bragging you've done about your niece's voice? You're kidding right? But the others will hang back so that we don't make her self-conscious. If Reg and Lee get cleaned up fast enough, they'll jump in, I'm sure."

 

"Fawn's little head's gonna explode," I have to laugh. "Do you need a drink? Feed ya?" With a shy grin, Eve shakes her head. However, both of us jump in surprise when a fast-food style cup including a straw materializes and I automatically accept the offering.

 

"It's lemonade, skinny girl," Rosa says with classically rough-edged Bronx Italian charm. "You need to stay hydrated and that bottled garbage is no good for you." Jo's mother is no one to be ignored and Eve takes the cup when I hand it over and murmurs a thank you. "Good girl."

 

After the older woman returns to her duties to the restaurant, I grin at Eve and walk her out. "Next time, come hungry or she'll be insulted."

 

"Yeah, I have a grandmother like that," the younger woman laughs and her body language turns intensely shy again. Thankfully, this side of the building is in shade right now and I can tolerate being out in the muggy afternoon heat for awhile. "What…" she starts once and swallows hard before looking up into my eyes and as she continues softly enough that I have to dial up my hearing a bit. "What did you do to Lee? She's been an absolute goof lately. In a sweet and kinda cute way…"

 

The predatory grin is involuntary and makes her shiver. "Sweet thing, I'm not saying anything that might compromise the goof." The look in the dark eyes is speculative and I place a finger over her mouth. "You think about your questions, Eve, and figure out exactly what you want to ask me. Just remember that I'm not around much, okay?"

 

"Okay," she agrees, fighting down her natural curiosity and unlocking her fancy bike from a nearby light pole. "See you tonight!"

 

"Guarantee it!" I call after her retreating form and go back inside with a chuckle.

 

Back to my Sara….

 

A little hanky-panky with my girl in the shower slows us down, but I won't complain because she's smiling. It's already four thirty and I need to get my ass in gear if we're going to be ready for this event.

 

"Ready for some spoiling?" I tease Sara as we both finish getting dressed and head downstairs to hail a cab to take us downtown. With my arm draped around my best girl and her back pressed into my side so that I can nuzzle her hair, I feel very relaxed. Once we're completely ensnared in traffic, I chuckle and pull out the phone to dial my mate.

 

"Hey there," Catherine greets me warmly. "Did you sleep well?"

 

"Soundly and thoroughly. Are the munchkins behaving?"

 

"Yes, we're hanging out in a kid's area over in Central Park. The green is nice."

 

"Quite the change from our desert. Did you guys get your shopping done?"

 

"Oh yes. The kids are beside themselves with curiosity for tonight. Are you just now headed over to Bloomingdales?"

 

"Unfortunately. We'll get dolled up and head straight back, I promise. What colors did you end up in?"

 

"I found the most exquisite dark pine green dress and Sofia is in proper drag in a show of solidarity with Cubby and Art. The poor boy felt so bad about being the only one going to his department and Sofia said the staff was great."

 

"Sofia in drag? Damn, that should be fun!"

 

That little tidbit has piqued Sara's curiosity and she smiles shyly at me. Yeah, she's not the only one!

 

"Okay, we'll see you back at Rosa-Jo's later then?"

 

"Yep. Love you."

 

"Love you too," we chorus and I click the phone shut to shove it back in my pocket. "Ready?" Is the next thing I say when I note that we're close and toss fare at the cabbie before jumping out in the crawling traffic to pull Sara between the slow cars and walk the rest of the way, hand in hand. 

 

"It's nice, just hanging out with you," Sara marvels as she cranes her neck around. "God, I haven’t been here since college."

 

Wracking my erratic memory, I comment, "Harvard, right? I do love smart girls!"

 

Through the imposing entrance of world-famous Bloomingdales, we are introduced to this palace of consumerism and just soak it in for a moment. An impeccably dressed man greets us calmly and cheerfully, getting us sent up to the first floor to recruit a personal shopper and get this excursion underway. A week ago, I called in and got this arranged under the House of Hearts corporate holdings, giving the famous department store a list of names allowed purchasing privileges on the new account. The woman at the counter is smart and quick, carefully checking my Nevada driver's license, her eyes skittering momentarily to the FBI badge that sits opposite the small ID card. 

 

Our personal shopper is a calm brunette with a short, metropolitan haircut that introduces herself as April and leads us up to the second floor. We talk back and forth on the escalator and she tells us that we're going to love the play when I explain why we're here. It turns out she helped out the rest of the clan earlier today and clearly remembers what most of the women bought.

 

Sara squirms self-consciously as April eyes her like a prize racehorse, humming thoughtfully to herself before herding us off to a selection of colors that immediately thrill me. Sara's going to be harder to convince, but April knows what she's doing. It's an amusing dynamic, watching the employee gently prod my reticent lover into something elegant and perhaps a little daring. While they step away to start narrowing choices down, no easy task in this place, I browse though some of the things that April has already set aside.

 

But it's something hanging on the rack to be returned to the floor that catches my eye and a word with the saleswoman at the counter has it in my hands. It's a clingy swath of bronzy fabric that shimmers like some exotic creature's hide. Holding it up to eye the striking fabric, I flick my gaze over to Sara and back again. Another quiet request to the saleswoman has the correct size in my hands and I walk over to hold it against Sara's back. She jumps in surprise and half turns to see what I'm doing.

 

"The color's perfect," I flatter softly, my voice intimate. "Try it on for me?"

 

Flushing in the suddenly charged atmosphere, Sara nods and moves off to head into the dressing rooms. April gives me a mock sour look and complains mildly, "you obviously don't need my help."

 

Chortling, I flash a grin at the woman and shrug, "sure I did. You're a pro and you loosened her up a bit. I like her in anything," I swallow the obvious 'or nothing', but April's smirk indicates she hears it anyway. "But if you like it as well, that will reassure her. She's shy."

 

April nods decisively and we wait patiently for my girl.

 

When Sara steps out a few minutes later, despite her awkward body language, she is breathtaking. "Wow," April marvels and I can only silently agree. The sleek fabric clings to Sara's slender figure like a second skin; the color accentuating her hair and eyes like it was made for her. Smiling with love and lust, I walk over to run adoring hands over her ribs to straighten the fabric, smoothing my hands down to her hips. My kiss is short and sweet, even though it's an effort to behave, and she finally relaxes.

 

"It's perfect," I purr.

 

Tickled pink at my obvious approval, Sara allows herself to be coaxed into browsing new and skimpy lingerie that will help the skin-tight lines of the clingy dress, but pauses suddenly. Following her eye, I spot it immediately and fire her a questioning look. "Really?"

 

"Oh Dace, try it, please," she begs and I grin in delight at her enthusiasm.

 

"For the look on your face, I'd try it on right here, but I might get us in trouble."

 

With my own size and one smaller and one larger to find the best fit, I retreat to the cushy fitting rooms and strip to my underwear and slither into the thing. It's a much brighter red than I would normally wear, a candy-apple intensity against my paleness. My eyes stand out brilliantly and I'm actually pleasantly surprised at the effect. When I call out for April's help with the zipper, it quickly becomes apparent that these dresses are cut a little small and I kick her out to change into the next largest.

 

This one feels better and clings to me fairly nicely when the zip pulls the fabric to my skin. I'm ambivalent about the dress itself, with its simple neckline that just barely covers the chest tat, but then April holds up the stylized bolero jacket that matches the thing and the effect becomes striking. The long sleeves hide the scars and ink and the just-above-the-knee hemline is sexy but not risqué.

 

"I love it," I marvel and April is pleased.

 

Sara's jaw drops when she steps out after trying on her new frilly underthings and I regret being in a public place where I can't take advantage of the look on her face. Hiding her smile semi-effectively, April tells me to change and she'll get both packaged up for us. A quick trip to the nearby shoes department gets us both a pair of elegant black sandals with low heels, since we're both fairly tall, and real honest-to-god silk hose. 

 

Settling up the bill actually raises an eyebrow because Sara's gorgeous dress is a high-end designer piece, but I willingly sign for the extravagant amount and toss on a decent tip for April. I'll get my money's worth out of the beautiful garment, of that I have no doubt! With a warm farewell for our helper, Sara and I take our bags and head back out to the street.

 

The whole excursion only took half an hour.

 

That means we're in no real hurry to get back and can sprawl back in the cab and stare up out the windows at the towering skyline. "This city is insane," I muse thoughtfully where I'm pinned between the door frame and Sara's lounging body. "The scale is just unreal."

 

"Like no other place on earth," Sara chuckles. "I didn't come up here a lot as a college student, but even one trip is memorable."

 

"Amen to that."

 

One of the things I love about my pack is that we all understand the value of the comfortable quiet. The rest of the trip is mostly silence, Sara stroking my leg, me caressing her belly and nuzzling the dark hair. 

 

Back at Rosa-Jo's, the gang has returned and the whole mess of us are our usual loud and gregarious selves. Dinner is hot and plentiful before we all race upstairs to get all gussied up. Catherine, as the true femme in my pack, has completely taken over the main bathroom, so Alex of all people has taken over cleaning me up. Scowling, my on and off again nemesis slaps away my teasing advances and makes me sit so that she can tame my wild mane of sun bleached, near-white hair with brush and curling iron before plying makeup over my features.

 

Sofia looks impossibly, girlishly handsome in the inky tux-cut suit and blindingly white shirt and skinny tie, her dirty blonde hair flowing over her shoulders. She's brushing out Sara's copper-brown tresses before twining them up into a playfully messy bun to be held in place with a pair of exotically carved chopsticks. This shows off the glory of the dress that will ensure a lasting impression.

 

When we gather again downstairs, the excitement level has climbed to a fever pitch, the younger kids and the teenagers alike pinging around the room like human molecules. The babies and toddlers are holed up in Jo's apartment with their keepers for the evening and we're ready to pile into the bus the moment it pulls up to the restaurant.

 

Decked out in frilly princess pink and white, Fawn is a spastic bundle of energy, practically throwing herself at me, breathless with anticipation. "Uuuuuuuuunca Daaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaace!" She wails urgently. "You hafta tell us! You just hafta!"

 

"Nope!" I laugh and haul her across my lap to sit in the seat beside me. "Just a little bit longer now and Lynn is going to drop us off. Trust me, you won't need to ask after that."

 

Ignoring the fact that we're all dressed up and obviously on our way to somewhere special, I chat with the four and half year old to distract her. She allows it, basking in being the center of attention as she always does, and rambles on about her day. 

 

As dusk grows heavier over the city of New York, we move slowly with traffic down 51st street and I get everyone ready to go. "Everybody grab a small kid. Karen, you take door guard and be careful everyone! We're exiting into traffic and the people here are nuts. Get out as fast as you safely can and get on the curb. Lindsey, grab Michael's hand and don’t you let her go! Lynn, we'll come around the front and I'll let you know when we've cleared."

 

Everyone murmurs affirmatives; I scoop up Fawn as she cranes her head to try and see, but can't as I stand up. Everyone's on their feet now, Lindsey squealing excitedly and being shushed by Cassie even as Fawn, Cubby in his father's arms and Emily holding on to her Mommy, look back. As soon as the bus stops and the door swings open, Karen's out and we file down the aisle and steps quickly.

 

Fawn's shriek deafens me, but I've been waiting for it and tighten my hold as she starts to thrash, her arms gripping my neck crushingly tight. "Unca Dace! You brought us to Xena! I love you!"

 

Several people gathered for the same reason grin at us and the echoed excitement in Lindsey, Jamie and Gloria. Cubby and Emily are impressed and eager, but we adults all knew that this was to big the biggest deal for the girl I'm still gripping tightly. "Yes, this is my surprise! Now, you help me pass out the tickets, okay?"

 

From my little purse comes the wad of tickets, each marked by me with a name written down earlier in the day. Fawn repeats the names out loud when I murmur them to her and each member of our clan takes them with a smile. When Fawn gets her own, she just stares at it, lost in the moment, and I finish calling the others over myself.

 

"We're not all sitting together. We're actually in five different groups all over the theater. Meet at the base of the east stairwell that leads to the balcony at the end. And don't leave whatever you do! Little kids, you are with me and Bahbas, because we get the best seats!" While the others figure out who's sitting with who, I run my hand over Emily's head and grin at the three youngest children. "Now, you guys know that this is a really big deal, right?" They nod vigorously, their attention completely focused on me. "You must be on your absolute best behavior and be really, really good kids, okay? If you need anything, you climb over and sit with me or Bahbas." They nod again and I pierce the three of them with a serious stare. "Promise me."

 

"We promise, Unca Dace," they chorus and I take Emily's hand to lead the whole gang of us in for our night of entertainment at the Hirschman Theater. Once inside the building, after handing over our tickets and getting the stubs back in return, we head up escalators with the rest of the high-energy crowd. It's a beautiful theater done in the art deco style and we marvel there in the lobby. My arm is getting really tired under Fawn's weight and I quickly switch the girls around.

 

"I can't believe I'm really here," Fawn breathes and I have to grin again. "This is sooooooo exciting!" Her sweet little voice is deliberately hushed, squeaky with the effort, once again amusing our fellow theatergoers. 

 

The best five seats handed to me by Eve are really good ones. Five rows back from the stage, on the aisle. Art heads in first, Fawn hot on her heels, then Emily, Cubby and finally me. I'm delighted to be sitting with the boy as he's marvelously smart and funny. "So, will you be my date for the show?" I question him, straightening his tie and the boy smiles winningly.

 

"I would like that."


	7. Chapter 7

By the time the curtain is up and the orchestra starts in with the familiar strains of the opening number, the twins have climbed into our laps, a little overwhelmed by the lights and noises and powerful song. Emily scoots over to Cubby's seat to cling to my hand, warming me at being their anchor. Here's Reg, lofted high above the stage in her cloud-over-Mount-Olympus rig, her operatic soprano carrying over the audience and cast, the whole production basically a flashback of the character from then on. I would have never known the brutally disheveled figure in a filthy shift and dragging sword and chakram is my playmate, the makeup and costume disguising everything but her voice. Through song and dance and dialog, the tale of the Warrior Princess and the Bard plays out before our eyes.

 

Now, I've heard the soundtrack, after all Fawn sings and plays it regularly, but seeing it live like this, with all the accompanying pageantry, is mind-blowing. The show is marvelous, uplifting and heart wrenching and sweet and angry and all emotional shades in between, culminating in the spectacular fight scene and ringing musical number that has made Lee a star.

 

At the intermission the kids are too wound up to be thinking clearly, but Art wisely insists on getting in the line for the bathroom, just in case.

 

By the time the rousing play is over, I'm sniffling back tears, trying not to ruin my makeup, the three kids openly crying as the two friends are torn apart by fate. Gabby bids farewell as she ascends to Mount Olympus, leaving Xena behind to live with her past deeds and the ache of losing a love that took her so very long to find. I recognize the last two numbers as the ones being rehearsed as I napped on this very floor those weeks ago and the memories contrast with the intent of the play.

 

We stand and scream our heads off with the rest of the crowded theater as the lights fade to black with the strains of orchestra and chorus ending the tale. Then we are swept away by the exiting crowd, forced to move along with the mass, and I grip Cubby to me and cling tightly to Emily's hand. When someone roughly jostles the almost eight year old, I growl at him and he wisely ducks away with a murmur of apology. We've lost Art and Fawn in the crush, but I'm not concerned. I find a padded bench where an elegantly dressed older woman scoots a bit so that I can collapse under my burden.

 

"Did you kids enjoy the show?" The woman asks with a twinkle in her eye.

 

"Oh yes ma'am," Cubby answers in his characteristically sweet and serious way. "It was a big surprise and we had a wonderful time!"

 

Right on cue, Karen materializes out of the crowd and Emily pounces on her with an excited squeal to babble happily at her. Cubby basks in the gentle stroke of Karen's hand over his head and I marvel at the interesting bond the two separate families have built into a solid whole. Cubby might not have a biological male in his life, but he has Karen and Art.

 

"Have a nice night!" Cubby calls to the older woman as I stand and move off, waving at her. At the base of the stairs where I told everyone to meet, our clan is gathering with happily babbling energy, the eldest set of twins in the clan draping themselves all over their adoring mother. My extended family is excited and gratified by the gift, warming me. Hell, half of them give me a hug or grateful kisses, the babbling of the group a happy din.

 

I actually jump at a strange touch on my arm.

 

"My god it is you," says a voice I recognize even as I turn to look at her. "Eve, you own me ten bucks." With no hesitation, I crouch a bit to sweep Lorna into a full-bodied hug that makes her giggle. "I barely recognized you. Damn you clean up nice."

 

"Wanted the full theater going experience so I took the clan to Bloomingdales today. Y'know, since I didn't have to pay for the tickets and all."

 

Laughing, Lorna is set back on her feet and I give Eve a quick hug before gesturing the clan to follow. After carefully counting heads, we're all past the theater employee guarding the doors to the now-empty theater. Shooing off questions, I herd the mass up to the front and we ignore the staff cleaning up beneath the blaze of the house lights.

 

"Guys, guys," I laugh, waving them down until they settle and give me their attention. "I haven't told you the whole story of all of this yet. These two lovely ladies are the instigators of all of this. And they got the tickets, not me."

 

There's a ripple of reaction in my clan, making me laugh again and tug forward my newer pals as I introduce them. "This is Lorna Mae Malloy and Eve Ramirez. They're the understudies for Xena and Gabrielle."

 

It's no surprise that Fawn's voice pipes up in her demanding, almost belligerent tone. "What is understudies?"

 

Lorna fields it before I can, stepping closer to the girl. "If the actress that plays Gabrielle cannot perform one night, I do it. And Eve here plays Xena if it's necessary. This show plays every day but Mondays and twice on Wednesdays and Saturdays. Now, you just saw the play and can see how much effort that Gabby and Xena take. So you can image that the actresses get tired."

 

"Or if they are sick?" Emily suddenly speaks up and grins winningly.

 

"Exactly. To do this job, you must be in perfect health, because even a little sniffle or upset stomach can make it impossible to do."

 

"Can you really sing like that?"

 

Fawn's awed question makes the actresses trade amused glances and Eve teases, "I told you she was going to ask. I'm keeping my ten bucks."

 

Sticking her tongue out, Lorna elbows Eve lightly in the ribs and they step apart a bit to face their small audience, forcing me to step aside and sit down beside my Guide. 

 

"Dearest most glorious and gorgeous Goddess of Love…" Lorna voices clearly, pretending that she is offering something to Aphrodite and the kids gasp and squeal in excitement to hear one of the songs they know and just heard.

 

"My honored Ares," Eve adds and the two of them launch into a rousing partial rendition of the funniest song in the play that thrills the kids to no end. 

 

"There's been some confusion over the task leading us to Rome," the women chorus cleanly, eyeing one another balefully and making the kids giggle.

 

"But of course I'll keep my focus," Eve vows seriously, echoed by a dramatic vibrato from Lorna.

 

"But of course I'll rise above it."

 

Pointedly ignoring one another, the women act as though they still address their distant deities. "For I know that's how you'd want me to respond, yes. There's been some confusion for you see my quest-mate is…"

 

"Exceedingly peculiar and altogether quite impossible to describe," Lorna warbles in a cartoony, sing-song voice, the notes soaring high and clean. 

 

Eve scowls, arms crossed and growls flatly, "blonde."

 

The actresses then bow to the applause of my group before trying to soften up the suddenly shy Fawn. I miss the details as I spot a familiar figure and duck away to stride over. Jaye grins winningly and offers a hand. "Hey, good to see you, man. I barely recognized you!"

 

"This is a pretty drastic turnaround from bike leathers," I chuckle and grasp his hand.

 

"Did everyone have a good time?"

 

"Thrillifying," I mock the Aphrodite character's peculiar style of speech and he laughs.

 

"Excellent. The cast will be jazzed. Give Reg and Lee about another few minutes and they'll be out here."

 

Both of us pause as the women start up the 'loathing' song again, Lorna holding Fawn's hands where the girl stands on her seat, her father with a gentle touch on her waist from behind. Listening to Art and Fawn sing is every bit as accomplished and gratifying as any professional, even in contrast to these two professionals! After enjoying the girl's sweet, high and shockingly flawless voice mingling with Lorna's for a moment, I turn back to Jaye.

 

"I didn't get to see you before I left last time. How have you been?" 

 

It's an open-ended question on purpose. Sure, we've chatted on the phone a couple of times, but this is the first time I've looked into the man's eyes since seducing his wife. Doesn't matter that all parties were and are fully disclaimered, this is still an awkward point. Thankfully, he quirks a smile and shrugs, "things have been remarkably normal. In fact, Lee seems really upbeat lately. I think she's pleased with herself for doing something so brave."

 

It's exactly the sort of answer I've been hoping for and nod. "Good. She should be proud of herself. You too, by the way. Takes a ballsy guy to do what you did."

 

Jaye shrugs it off, but I can see that he's pleased nonetheless. "Yeah, well, you can be an occasional exotic treat. Better for us to get any experimenting out of our systems safely like this, right?"

 

"Smart man," I congratulate and punch him in the arm with a smile.

 

To everyone's amusement, Art has persuaded Fawn to stand on the edge of the stage, keeping her hands on her daughter's waist in support, arms stretched upward. "How many kids can say they get to sing on a real Broadway stage?" smiles the woman who shares her exotic Mediterranean good looks with her children. Whistling a high tune for a moment, Art launches into a song I know from holidays around her family. Amy Grant and the strong woman holding her small body safely taught Fawn to sing, the artist being a mutual favorite of father and daughter. The Christmas song doesn't show off how Fawn's pure little voice has matured since she was a toddler, but it instantly relaxes her.

 

"How about we try 'For Good'?" Art coaxes as they wind down and Fawn looks around in awe at how she sounds in the building's acoustics.

 

"This I have to hear," I tell Jaye and grab his sleeve to drag him over to the others. The poignant duet of the friends near the end of the play is my favorite song in the musical and I want to hear my friends sing together.

 

"I'm limited," Eve sings coaxingly, beginning the short intro before Lorna takes over. To my astonishment and gratification, Art joins in with the blonde actress, Fawn's dark gaze never leaving the upturned face. Then Eve slides into her part, Fawn's silvery voice gradually joining in to complete a perfectly synchronized duet. The lyrics speak of love and friendship and the need to forgive, before soaring into the memorable duet.

 

Behind the small child, who is now completely caught up in this magical moment, the two stars of Xena step out from the curtains and staff moving about. Quietly pacing across the stage to stand several paces behind her, they raise their voices in song with the others.

 

Suddenly, the quartet is a sextet and it takes Fawn a moment to notice. She falters for a moment, but Bahbas tugs on her hands and with the professionals singing along, Fawn gets to perform a dream. Then she stares in awe as Lee and Reg finish the final heart-wrenching duet of their characters, Reg's voice soaring over the empty theater, joined with the slightly lower, richer timber of Lee's tones.

 

All of us applaud, Fawn throwing herself off the stage to rock Art back on her heels, clinging painfully tight to the swarthy woman to get her emotional equilibrium back. Janet and Cubby join the cuddle as the actresses onstage vanish. In just a minute, the door where Jaye and I had been standing creaks open to let Reg, then Lee into the theater to pace over to the little family.

 

I'm hugely entertained that both walk right past me without so much as a glance. So, I step over and gesture for the attention of my big clan, watching both Lee and Reg' eyes round as they recognize me. "Thank you singers, that was wonderful! So, guys meet Regina Danowitz, you saw her perform Gabrielle tonight." Reg curtsies with no hands, since she's holding Lily and has an enormous purse over her shoulder. It takes real effort to keep my smile from going to something more adult than I need to get in front of the kids as I glance into Lee's wide eyes. "And this is Elina Garner, who plays…" the pause is entirely feigned for effect, strictly to goad the kids into participating. Even as the actors chuckle at my expression, the kids jump in, including Lindsey and Jamie.

 

"Xena!" They chorus and Lee bows while I shrug.

 

"See, I knew you knew it."

 

Before I get mocked too badly, more people have appeared at the door and I grab Jaye to go over there, leaving the actresses to the mercy of my clan. I recognize several of them, but can only name Bartholomew in my head and shake his hand. 

 

"God that was fun. Thank you, thank you, thank you everybody. My whole clan had a great time, especially the little ones."

 

"It was worth it for that kid's voice. She's amazing," says the woman I think played Aphrodite and I chuckle.

 

"Just don't stroke her ego too much. She's been a diva since she was a toddler. You'll all spoil her. Can I feed you in thanks? One of our numbers has a family restaurant that serves fantastic Italian and tons of other stuff. And I have a bus with fifteen extra seats!"

 

A half-dozen of them are interested and I leave them with Jaye to return to the others, prying Reg away from the curious kids.

 

"You have a neat family," she compliments and smiles up at me.

 

"I do, thank you. Listen, I've invited the cast to dinner, my treat. It's the least I can do for this," my expansive gesture takes in the whole evening and Reg looks torn. "It's just in the Bronx. You can cab it home or we'll get you there somehow. I've rented a bus that's far too big for even our numbers for this trip."

 

Stepping away to let her think about it, I retrieve my phone from the purse and call Lynn to come get us. Then I boom my voice over the babble of voices, "okay troops, hit the doors! The bus is coming back; next stop Rosa-Jo's!" The kids protest where Lee is standing among them, showing them a thin plastic tin of burnt sienna colored makeup, all five of them with the color on their fingers. "Relax!" I laugh as I place my hand in the small of Lee's back. "She's coming along. Actors need to eat too and they worked really hard tonight. Now behave yourselves, you monkeys, and go find your parentals."

 

After a moment, I can fire a long, significant look into the mossy green eyes of my playmate before she flushes and drops her gaze.

 

"Let me feed you," I purr softly. "The kids won't last much past getting back to Rosa-Jo's, if that long. We're staying in the apartments above the restaurant."

 

There are a few persistent fans at the doors who get a bit of attention as we wait for the bus. When Cubby appears at my side again, holding little white Lily, I have to grin. The boy has a real gift with animals and the puffball lolls against his chest with adoring abandon.

 

"Isn't she pretty," Cubby marvels over the small, meticulously groomed dog. "She is so very little, but nice Miss Regina says that she is full grown! She said that I could hold her, because she likes me. Do you know her name, Unca Dace? Because I can tell you, if you don't know."

 

Charmed as always by the boy, I play dumb. "I was introduced to her the first time we met, but I've forgotten."

 

Puffed up with importance, in his own sweet way of course, Cubby turns his body to show me the dog's face. "This is Lily. Miss Regina says that she is named after the actress Lily Tomlin, who I did not know until Miss Regina told that she was the Incredible Shrinking Woman. I love that movie very much."

 

Scooping up dog and boy as the bus pulls up, I use my physical size and whore-red dress to shoo traffic away from the door so the other can file in. A true New Yorker, Lily is completely unfazed, sniffing at the air and the front of my dress.

 

"I see you picked up strays," Lynn laughs as the door whooshes shut behind me and I shrug.

 

"The poor things look like they're starving," I mock and get scattered laughter. The window seat beside Reg is empty and I lean over to plop Cubby down and grin at the blonde. "You were sucked in by the Goldston charm. There's no fighting it. Not from the miniature versions, nor their elders."

 

It turns out that the only empty seat is with Sara, whom I gratefully flop down beside, surprised at my current state of tiredness. "It'll pass," Sara soothes, nuzzling my ear. "It's just all this excitement. Food and the twins will make it all better."

 

There's a lull in the thrum of conversations in the crowded bus where Cubby's voice suddenly carries over all of us. He has stood up on his chair to look over the back. "Mister Bartholomew? Miss Regina said to ask you because she does not know."

 

"Okay," the man answers, clearly taken aback. "Fire away little man."

 

"Why were Xena and Gabrielle being so silly over Caesar? It's very obvious that they would have been better off together."

 

Snerks are admirably swallowed as Bartholomew makes an, "uhhh," sound that causes the snickering to increase. It's even funnier when I see Reg lean her forehead onto her hand in the classic 'could have had a V8 moment' that breaks loose laughter.

 

"Not you, Cubby," I reassure him, "we're just amused that Miss Regina couldn't answer the question herself."

 

He nods with satisfaction as I hear Jaye chortle, "from the mouth of babes."

 

"Well," Bartholomew hedges when it becomes obvious that no one else is going to jump in. "I think that people mostly don't really chose who they fall in love with. I mean, Caeser's kind of a jerk, right? But the gods punish him for being bad and Xena and Gabrielle realize that they can't save him and it makes the two women even stronger together."

 

There are murmurs of approval as Cubby digests all of that before looking back over his shoulder. "Icky grown-up stuff, Bahbas?"

 

Laughing, Art's voice carries through the bus, "not that kind of icky grown-up stuff, but close enough. Not everyone can be lucky enough to know who they'll love forever right from the start."

 

The thought of Fawn and Emily in addition to my girls and Rose makes me smile. "Well said, Goldston," I call out. "Cubby? Do you remember what I said about that when I was healing from being hurt?"

 

"You said lots of things, Unca Dace. Most I can't say or I will get in trouble." That brings the house down and the boy looks pleased at the response. After the group quiets he pipes up again. "Just kidding. You always say that sometimes healing hurts."

 

"Exactly. And sometimes even people that love each other hurt each other."

 

Finally Lee chimes in with, "but forgiveness never comes too late."

 

"But you still didn't answer my question," Cubby sighs in his patient way. "Is it because they are girls? My grownups are all girls."

 

"You have Bahbas and Kryn," Fawn suddenly pipes up and Art stands up to flash a slightly uncomfortable smile at all the strangers.

 

"It's late and they're getting philosophical," she shrugs and the faint chuckles are kind. She leans that sturdy build half over Reg with a murmur of apology, but Cubby fusses.

 

"But Bahbas, I don't want to leave Lily."

 

"You can both sit with me for awhile," Reg volunteers to soothe the tired boy. "Lily will stay with until you sleep."

 

"Thank you, Miss Regina."

 

Everyone's gone a bit quiet, the decelerating energy of the children keeping the actor's exuberance in check. No one expects Reg's voice to suddenly pick up the thread. "Do you know why I think that Xena and Gabrielle didn’t stay together?"

 

"No," Cubby answers.

 

"I know it's a lame answer, but that's not how the gods let it happen. The whole story is about how Ares and Aphrodite have this silly contest that hurts people, but also teaches everybody important lessons. But Xena and Gabby will always be the best of friends and it doesn't matter that they had to be apart."

 

After a moment, Cubby sighs dramatically, "okay, you win. But they would have been happier together."

 

"Maybe you're right."

 

Abruptly Fawn has wiggled away from her mama and has imperiously planted herself at Jaye's knee. "Can I sit with you please?"

 

"Sure thing. Do you think we might hear that pretty voice of yours again?"

 

"Maybe," she giggles coyly. "I'm Fawn."

 

"I'm Jaye. You know Elina already."

 

As the girl starts to babble at one of her vocal heroes, the noise in the bus picks up a bit. Laughter and a spontaneous rendition of Annie's, 'It's a Hard Knock Life' breaks out with the actors gamely joining in. That's followed up by a revisit to Fawn's sweet tones mingling with Lee's soaring soprano in a tune I don't know that brings the house down. Then they coax Art into singing with them, her emotive, lyrical alto carrying the higher voices and Reg marvels when they settle again. Scoffing it off, Art chortles, "I'm just glad to see my little silver-flute of a singer has someone new to play with. I really can't match her range even a little. Though singing with your soundtrack has sure stretched my range more than I'd have thought possible."

 

A clean middle-range soprano note is her proof and we all applaud. 

 

"Bahbas? Can I sing on Broadway someday?" Fawn pipes up and Art laughs.

 

"My darling, you can do anything you set your mind to, of that I have absolutely no doubt. But you have to work really, really hard, isn't that right ladies?"

 

Lee picks up the demand in Art's voice and jumps in. "That's right. Reg and I and everybody else, we have to practice all the time and take really good care of ourselves."

 

"And have constant vocal lessons," Reg chimes in, singing the last two words operatic.

 

"And work six days a week," chimes in Lorna from behind me.

 

"You have to want it more than anything," Eve inclines her body out into the aisle and Fawn smiles at her where she's leaned away from Jaye's arms. "Because it's the hardest work you'll ever do."

 

"But it looks like fun," Fawn puzzles.

 

"It is. That doesn't mean that it's not really, really hard work. Doesn't singing tire you out?"

 

"Sometimes."

 

"Now imagine it while dancing around and concentrating to make sure that you're exactly in the right spot and making sure that the audience feels what you want them to feel."

 

Both put off and encouraged, the girl nods, given time to process when Lindsey jumps into ask how they all came to be where they are now. Tuning it all out, I settle back in beside Sara and close my eyes for a moment, jostled out of my near-doze when the bus' heavier parking brakes clamp down and the door swings open.

 

"Come on, instigator," Kerry teases as Zo prods me upright and we all file out with the crowd. On the sidewalk, I realize that the fancy jacket has grown uncomfortable and struggle my way out of it. And struggle I do! I must look like a dog chasing her tail as I try to get out of the snug sleeves. Giggling, Lindsey comes to my rescue and then I wrap the girl up in a headlock in thanks. We've missed each other since she left Las Vegas to start her new life here with Jamie.

 

The faint breeze carrying off the water is slightly chilly across my bare back and shoulders, a pleasant contrast that makes me shiver happily. 

 

"This was a really neat night," Lindsey murmurs and I hang back from the others to spend a couple of quiet minutes with this treasured child. It doesn't matter that we're standing in the crowded warren of the Bronx, because the moon still hangs in the sky and we know an animal peace together. I don't ask how she is, her mother fusses enough, and I can feel how she has sunk her roots into this complicated place.

 

A tall, lanky figure appears in the doorway to Rosa-Jo's and we cougars know who it is before she even opens the glass door. "What are you mad cows doing out here? Come inside and socialize," Nikki's rich London tones berate us affectionately and we giggle and obey. The dark Sentinel and I are still slightly bristly with instincts even now, but have learned to ignore one another's animalism and peace is maintained. Animals don't want to fight; they will try every other resort first. By posturing and maintaining indifference, the instincts I share with the Englishwoman are placated.

 

Inside, Helen tosses Katie to me and I squeeze my wild child as she babbles hello. "Were they monsters?"

 

"No," the Scot grins, "just a lot of them."

 

Smiling at the petite Guide, I join the mass of noisy humanity that has clustered at the far end of the restaurant space. "Sorry about the chaos," I apologize to Rose, who waves me off.

 

"Jo called ahead to warn us of extra mouths. And your adorable little friend from this afternoon has been buttering me up." The matron is delighted and I go to Eve to place a noisy kiss on her crown. The look of pleased confusion makes me chuckle and move off, leaving her to wonder. 

 

"Hey, we didn't get to see the entirety of those," Bartholomew comments and I actually don't shy from the touch of his fingers on my bare back. "Somebody has a really nice hand. Chess pieces and playing cards. Fascinating." There really is something very welcoming and harmless about this bunch. Even a strange male with his hands on my bare skin gets no reaction. Interesting and entirely atypical of me.

 

"It's a reoccurring theme," I smile sweetly at him, the expression deepening when his eyes fall to where my chest tat hides just beneath the edge of my dress.

 

"So, you don't sing," Jaye muses conversationally and Lee flushes when I give her a mockingly aggrieved look.

 

"Brought that up, did you?" Embarrassed, she lays her head in her crossed arms and we all laugh. "Nope, can't carry a tune in a wet paper bag, but…" With a gesture, Bartholomew and then Jaye stand up so that I can reach in and grab Lee's sleeve. "Come on, superstar, I'm putting you on the spot."

 

"But," she splutters and the crowd immediately starts taunting her into compliance. "Traitors," she grumbles half-heartedly at her cast mates, who only laugh. Sara reappears from upstairs in her jammies and sneakers, toting the chunky, stylized boom box which she plunks on the counter. My 60 GB iPod is plunked into its spot in the machine as Lee scoots out of the booth to take my hand and I draw her to her feet.

 

"You've got the boots on," I hide the tone of my leer as best I can, but she flushes lightly anyway. Raising my voice I address both her and the crowd. "I'm not dressed right for this, but you'll have to use your imagination." Offering my left hand, I pull Lee's slender frame to mine with my right. A sweet, slow piano melody rolls from the boom box and I shift with the tempo, Lee's body effortlessly following mine.

 

There's a scrape of tables as Karen and Tessa good-naturedly start shoving the furnishings around to give me some space. "Too slow, huh?" I joke with my partner, who grins and shrugs.

 

"I have no opinion."

 

"Brat, you lie. You're practically vibrating with energy. Sara! Tango!"

 

We have a few seconds of standing there, in the intimate closed-dance position, ignoring the others. Then, the sassy Latin strains fill the air and I get Lee's body to really move this time. It is no egotistical brag that I am a damn good ballroom dancer. This is a set of skills turned to body memory over the span of two decades of hard work. Sylvia loved to dance and it was one of the few times we were equals. Once no longer hers, I found I missed it and Tessa stepped up. Now, my entire pack knows the basics and I can indulge regularly. Having a trained professional in my arms is a thrill.

 

"Went to college for this, huh?" I tease Lee and she chuckles.

 

"I did. So are you gonna challenge me or what?"

 

Never let it be said that I won't at least give a good dare a proper consideration and a gesture at Sara has the next song livelier. Now we're cooking! Whirling my smaller playmate, rock solid on four inch heels, I get her moving now, relishing the tempo and exercise in my own body. Sara tosses in a perfect Latin song that covers several styles and I know this one intimately.

 

Giggling breathlessly, Lee gives me control willingly, her body playing off of mine and the surroundings become a blur. When she does falter, I quickly adjust for it, covering her as though there were judges watching. She even gamely tucks her legs up so that I can grip her smaller frame to my hip, spinning us both dizzyingly. 

 

Then I realize that I need to get away from her or embarrass us both in front of an audience. Thankfully, several of my family and friends have joined us and I can ease Lee into a simpler hold to speak in her ear. "I need to get my hands off of you."

 

We're both warmed up, loose and happy, the scents of our combined arousal tickling my animal perceptions. Stepping away from her enticing body, I bow over her knuckles to kiss them and send her back to her table with a swat on that fine ass. Then I can scoop up a giggling and sleepy Cubby, rocking him into complete relaxation.

 

"You were a wonderful date tonight, Cubby," I purr at him and he hugs me sleepily.

 

"Thank you, Unca Dace. So were you. We all had fun, but I think it's time for bed."

 

"Okay, I'll take you up myself."

 

It's as good a break as any for the tired among our numbers to grab a bite as heaping platters of spaghetti and other goodies are set out by Rose and her staff, before heading up for a very late bedtime. The little ones will be hungry when they wake!

 

Art rouses a sleepy Janet, handing the dead-to-the-world Fawn to me. Several of the actors come over to kiss the oblivious girl goodnight and it makes me smile. "If you're ever in Vegas," I grin at Reg, who lingers over stroking the inky curls of the Goldston twins where they sprawl all over me. "We can keep you company and keep your privacy." She nods wistfully and I wish I understood her conflict.

 

Art yawns and stretches before thanking the group for a wonderful night and taking Fawn's dead weight.

 

"Back in a few," I chortle and head upstairs with my charge. Once Cubby's in the care of his pack, I sneak off to my own apartment, amused to see Sofia and Olivia passed out in the living room on the couches with the triplets. "Hey Jimmy-boy," I chuckle at my son, tickling at him when the dark blue eyes open to regard me. He's still a little confused by me, memories of my face and scent contrasting with the more casual role I play in his life now. But he still likes me well enough as just another adult and I'm content with that. Stroking his downy head soothes him back to sleep, and I glance up to see both detectives watching me quietly. "I just came up to change clothes. I like the whore-red dress, but I'm feeling a little constricted."

 

Huffing in amusement, these beloved partners of mine, who watch my back and my spirit, nod and settle back in to doze over the children. A stroke of the straight white-blonde hair of the twins share with me and I stealth off to the bedroom to change. The weird stick to my skin bra thankfully slithers away from my chafed chest and I glower at it. Stupid thing…

 

It's nearly two in the morning and I'm feeling the need to hunt. With that thought strong in my mind, I go for loose-fitting jeans and the t-shirt the actors signed during that first trip, after yanking on the close-fitting nursing bra that stops leaks. The girls suckle much less now, which makes the thing merely a precaution most of the time. Then nice, comfy padded athletic socks and the boots, my feet happy with the change. A quick grab at one of the spare pillows on the bed and a small throw blanket from Sofia's couch gets me out the door.

 

Back into the fray!


	8. Chapter 8

At the base of the stairs, singing carries out of the restaurant, probably confusing the hell out of the patrons of Nikki's pub next door. When I push my way back into Rosa-Jo's the volume picks up as though in welcome and I have to laugh. They collectively 'awwww' at me when I toss the pillow and blanket onto an empty booth before collecting poor little Lily to settle her in the nest. "The boy would never speak to me again if I didn't take care of his new friend," I shrug them off and tuck the blanket around the little animal.

 

Like a stand-up comedian act, the actors get wilder and wilder now, song, dance and general craziness finally uncorked by the children safely off to bed.

 

Catherine has strategically placed herself opposite Jaye and Lee in the big booth, scooting over to make room for me. Cuddling to my right arm, she nuzzles up to my ear. "You should take Sara with you, see what happens."

 

"I was thinking about that, actually," I murmur back, subtly watching Lee's restless eyes flickering over us. "Their labs dropped into my account two days ago, so everything's in order."

 

"Okay, good. If you don't decide to stay with Sara, make sure you come get me to stay with her, okay?"

 

"Of course. Besides, it's not like I'm going far."

 

We chuckle quietly together, her fingers stroking my upper arm while I caress her thigh under my hand.

 

Even the actor's energies finally begin to wane as the hour passes three and keeps going. In a lull, Lorna suddenly chimes up, "we should have had a better answer to Cubby's question." The looks of confusion make her sigh at their tired obtuseness. "About why Xena and Gabrielle didn't end up with each other."

 

"That's the midnight show," Jaye adds in mischievously.

 

"On Saturdays," says one of the others I still haven't met.

 

"In the Village." Eve cracks up.

 

"And the traveling show in Weho," laughs Sara, getting into the spirit of things.

 

"And Andersonville!" squeals Lorna in hysterics.

 

"And the Castro," Lee chortles merrily and I time it carefully, waiting for the other's laughter to rise in volume before picking up my booted right foot and sliding the heavy sole up between her thighs. Laughter strangling, eyes wide, Lee tenses up, staring at me while I slowly push forward, rocking the sole against the grip of her strong thighs. I'll win this one, because eventually the pressure is going to hurt and she'll squirm away, giving me enough room to insinuate my boot heel against her crotch.

 

It doesn't take long.

 

This is a particular type of footsie, a sensual stimulation against her sex with something as dirty and base as my heavily clothed foot. Tenderly flexing my ankle, I press into her abdomen with the ball of my foot while the old, layered oak heel rubs at the opening to her body, trapped under the smooth denim of her pants.

 

Around this silent drama, the group continues to banter, but I'm barely listening. I've enjoyed their company immensely, but my mind is elsewhere now. Lee's right hand has slithered under the table, her grip deathly tight on my ankle, but I don't stop that kinky massage.

 

I'm abruptly startled from the stare-down by the others shifting into a different gear. Obviously the decision to call it a night has been reached and I smother down the sensual haze and retrieve my foot with no preamble and get to my feet. Well, I try anyway, knocked back down by Lorna and Eve pouncing on me.

 

"You troublemakers are the best," I murmur into their opposite-colored manes, kissing the strands and squeezing them tightly as they drape all over me.

 

"We had a great time," Lorna giggles and kisses my cheek. "See you around, Dace."

 

"You too, Lorna."

 

But I don't release my hold on Eve, breathing hotly in her ear, "Go talk with Michael. She is an extraordinary friend and mentor. Test your boundaries, pretty girl, be brave. You can trust us, I promise."

 

Nodding jerkily, she presses a quick kiss to the corner of my mouth and slips away without a word. Jo taps Michael when I shoot a sharp, significant look over there and the gold wolf-eyes follow my leading glance to the shy actress. A smile of understanding between us and Eve is in good hands, Michael standing to approach her with studied nonchalance. 

 

That leaves me to shake hands and get a few more hugs until I'm left facing Reg. "Thank you," she says simply, one hand on my arm, ironically on the right, her fingers light against the furrowed scars there. I place my fingers over hers in a sort of embrace and nod somberly. 

 

"You're very welcome. It was a real pleasure for all parties. May I walk you out?"

 

The actress' smile warms as I offer an arm for her to slip a hand into the crook of my elbow. After a pause for me to gently hook my fingers among Lily's legs to lift her body to my chest, we head out the door.

 

The New York night is still tropical and quiet presses in as close as it ever will, which isn't saying much. Most of the others are gone and I use the bulk of my body to shield Reg' eyes from the Michael and Eve drama playing out at the end of the building.

 

"You are an intriguing character, Dace Bogart," Reg muses shrewdly as she waits to flag down a taxi.

 

"I think that I'm damn lucky to be the person I was always meant to be," I shrug with a warm smile.

 

She ponders that for a moment, abruptly flagging down a taxi before shooting me an intense look. There's things she wants to say but continues to hold her tongue. Jaye appearing helps her retreat and I feel badly for her, keeping whatever it is bottled up inside.

 

"Wait up Reg; I'll give you an escort."

 

"Okay."

 

The man grins at me and I'm gratified to see the openness of the expression. "She's all yours man. You break her, you bought her."

 

Laughing, I tease back, "what? Doesn't she have some sort of warranty?"

 

"Ask the Hirschman!"

 

Carefully retrieving Lily from me, Jaye climbs into the cab and it starts to pull away.

 

"See ya around, Vegas!" Reg calls out the open window and I wave and chuckle to myself. A glance around confirms that Michael and Eve have vanished and my acute hearing picks up no trace of them. Must have stepped inside then.

 

At the doors of the restaurant, Jo is waiting with a faint smile. She too has been a playmate over the years and I will never forget how she watched my back undercover while we tracked the maddened Sentinel serial killer who eventually almost killed me and was killed by Catherine in turn. "Did Michael make it back in?" I ask as she locks up behind me.

 

"Yep. She's next door with your actress pal." My confusion is only half mocking and Jo laughs. "Not that one. Your actress is still sitting there, squirming." We both lean out of the small entryway to see Lee still at the table, head bowed and hands twined in her lap, Sara holding her perch at the counter, staring at the smaller woman intently. "The place is empty," Jo adds, "so collect them into the hallway so that I can shut the lights off for the whole half hour before the morning crew gets here."

 

"Done. Thanks Jo," I grin and step back into the main dining room, pulling my Daddy role around me. "Basker, Starling, come here," I growl bossily. "Both of you." Without looking at whether they're following, I turn on my heel and stride past Jo, who swallows her smirk because she knows I'll tan her hide myself if she misbehaves in this sort of situation. Near-darkness falls over the dining room as she smacks the switches in the kitchen before locking up the various doors and heading upstairs without a sound.

 

Only then do I turn to my pair of quiet brunettes. Neither looks directly at me, but I can see their eager eyes peeking from beneath dark lashes. These two are strangers and I need to change that. Sara has had too few opportunities to be in a training role and I won't pass this up.

 

Grabbing Lee's shirtfront, I press her to the wall, my hand heavy on her sternum, and haul Sara close to be kissed soundly. Rough and needy, I pressure Sara's natural reticence, forcing her well-tuned body to respond to my lust. Like the alpha and omega wolf of a pack, I roughly dominate her, nipping and growling, forcing her to psychologically show me her belly, tail tucked up submissively. Pressing heavily into my larger body, Sara groans that rusty, heavy sound deep in her body that is a barometer to her need.

 

Once Sara's good and horny, I shift her to my hip, her body writhing subtly against my side. Then I can curl my left hand into Lee's shirt again to jerk her close. "I want you," I breathe softly. "When do I have to give you up?"

 

"Friday," it takes Lee a moment to whisper. "Eve's covering for me tonight."

 

Right on cue, a high, breathy moan just reaches our collective ears and Lee's eyes round. "Not if she doesn't get her ass home," I chuckle darkly. "If you stay, this time will be a bit different." Forcibly shaking off the shock of her real life contrasting with what I offer her, Lee focuses on me again. "I've been neglecting my pet here and you will participate or watch, depending on your comfort level and my whim." Brushing my mouth and nose over her cheek, I breathe against her ear, "Trust me, songbird. Have I steered you wrong?"

 

"No," she murmurs, hands alighting on my waist and belly with barely discernable pressure. "Please, Dace, take me with you. I trust you."

 

Nikki's voice has risen in the pub, shooing Michael and Eve out. That's my cue to grab my pets, a slender neck in each hand, and march them off to the elevator.

 

Michael and I share a warm glance as she escorts Eve out of the pub so that Nikki can lock up and I push my charges into the opening elevator. For an intense few moments, I shove Lee into the stainless steel doors to kiss her soundly, grabbing that fine ass and grinding her pelvis into mine. Sara presses to my back, nuzzling my nape and ear.

 

As the car starts to slow, I lean away, enjoying Lee's squawk of surprise as the doors begin to open and only my hand on her waistband keeps her from falling on her ass. Keeping her off balance, I walk her backwards down the hallway, crowding her body with mine. She finally loses her footing, falling to dangle from my grip on her waistband and her grip on my neck. I brace my elbow on my knee so that my back is saved from her weight and grin wickedly into her shocked eyes.

 

"Told you that you could trust me, songbird. Now hang on."

 

Tilting my spine and pressing with my legs, I lever up her smaller weight and get her on her feet to spin her and march her down the hall with my hand again gripping her neck. Sara fumbles open the deadbolt and I give them both affectionate pushes towards the darkened master bedroom with its tellingly open door. Part of me wants to go check on the pale members of my pack, but my instincts are calm and I set the need aside. Right now my dark lovers need me.

 

"Kneel," I growl, flicking on the light. To my amusement and relief, Lee is obviously looking to Sara as much as I for instruction. Good girl, she's picked up on my Sunshine's status and skills. Utterly ignoring the two of them for the time being, I hum tunelessly to myself as I go to the closet and drag out a fairly hefty duffelbag. This trip, I had time to think ahead and have a great many more tricks with me.

 

There are only a few objects on the dresser that I carefully collect and move to the bathroom. This leaves space for me to unpack the duffle, arranging my props for easy access. Nothing outrageous, just a nice cross-section of bondage gear and a couple light floggers. I don't generally go for heavy corporal punishment and with my right hand permanently weakened, my accuracy sucks anyway.

 

And I have a couple of presents for my new pet too.

 

They've been kneeling for a bit now and Lee is trying not to squirm. Her knees are probably starting to bother her, since the high-heeled boots are useless in trying to absorb some of her weight. Crouching behind her, I hold my left hand over her shoulder. "Give me your hand, Starling, and shift carefully off to your side so that you can sit on the floor." Groaning softly, Lee does as I gently order. "Kneeling is a skill like any other. You have permission to sit normally."

 

"Thank you, ma'am."

 

Tugging her legs out, I massage her aching knees for a few moments while she leans back on her hands. "Do you wear these much?" I ask with false nonchalance, patting the boots and she flushes prettily.

 

"Only when I need the charge, ma'am."

 

Slapping the aforementioned footwear, I stand and stretch out my back. "Fair enough answer. Make yourself comfy, Starling. You might be there awhile. Come here, Basker." Accepting my offered hand, Sara stands gracefully with demurely lowered eyes. Gently gathering her lanky body to mine, I press her close. "I didn't get a chance to dance with you, my dear."

 

"No, Daddy, you didn't."

 

Half with my fractured humming and half with body memory; we cuddle and sway, titillating our silent audience with the familiar synergy of our bodies. This gives me a chance to hold her in love and comfort for long moments, as well as read what her body is telling me. Snuffling through the familiar dark tresses, I once more imprint this beloved woman on my body and heart, slithering my hand up to press gentle but hard fingers into the base of her skull, softening her. 

 

Moaning raggedly, Sara is pressing into me now, the heat rising to blot out everything else in her mind. Over the years, this freedom from her darkness and demons has come more and more easily, leaving our more extreme sex play for pleasure only. Growling against her kiss-swollen mouth makes Sara release a stuttered groan that pleases me greatly. I do love it when she gets so pliant!

 

Chewing teasingly at her bottom lip, I disentangle myself, our mouths parting lastly. "Strip for me."

 

This was the hardest thing that Tessa taught my shy lover, this sensuous act of pure sexual decadence. She doesn't even need music anymore; the tune of her need carried by the throb of her own pulse is enough. To no one's surprise but her own, Sara is graceful and sinuous at this. Tonight, there are hints of nervousness in her harem-girl sway, but that's due to our new audience and I let it slide.

 

Piece by piece, Sara's clothing falls away artistically, tossed to the nearby chair to be dealt with later. All that creamy skin is once more mine and I drink up the sight of her, arms crossed behind my pillow to watch. Toeing off the mass of pants and socks and shoes was the hardest trick to learn, but she's got it now. 

 

As the snug material of the panties begins to slide over that soft belly, I once more get to enjoy the ink tattooed possessively into Sara's skin. Getting Michael in one spot to do the work had been a bigger challenge then figuring out what to leave on Sara's hide. But last September had finally provided the time and proximity. During a quarterly meeting when the other Kings and or Queens came to Las Vegas in deference to my infant children, Sara accepted the marks that have made her mine.

 

Like all Aces, she now bears the symbol of her house on her sternum, the faceted upside-down heart, identical to Karen's. Both mine and Tessa's differ slightly. Cradled in the soft hollow between pelvis and navel on the right side, lies the impression of the ghostly cougar eyes associated with me. And, unique to Sara is the even ghostlier image of the blue eyes and coyote grin of my mate just above, as though the canine is peeking over the head of the larger feline hunter.

 

When she turns and bends at the hips to shimmy her panties off, I get a thrill at her pink and swollen assets flashing enticingly. "C'mere, Sara," I purr growly, deliberately using her name. Like a cat in heat she slithers along my prone body, pressing her face and chest to my still-clothed body until she can lie atop me and we kiss once again. "You've been such a good girl," is my throaty praise, murmured over her expressive mouth, "So sweet and obedient and willing to please." We grin at each other. "Not to mention patient. I would like to reward you." She's squirming under my caressing hands and the denim-clad thigh I have tucked up against her heat. "An orgasm of your choice, my love."

 

Sara makes a great show of pondering my offer thoroughly, glancing back at the piles of play gear with a devilish smirk before kissing me hard. "Your mouth, Daddy," she hums needily, "please."

 

"Done," I crow, slapping her ass to get her moving. While she sits up on her knees, I grab the pillow to set the short end against the back of my neck for comfort. "Shimmy that gorgeous bod up here," I growl and a giggling Sara crawls up my body, carefully swinging her knees over my shoulders to straddle my head. This close up I can indulge in the animal pleasure of the smell and sight of her.

 

Then I get an evil idea.

 

"Sara, darlin', let me up for just a moment."

 

Without a sound, though the impatience of waiting flashes in the dark eyes, Sara obeys, moving aside so that I can jump to my feet. Grabbing up the simple pair of nylon webbing shackles lined in purple neoprene, I return to the bed and sit.

 

"Starling," my voice barks out and she jumps, visibly startled. "Come here, on your hands and knees. You shake that ass when you walk, let me see you crawl like you need it."

 

"Yes ma'am," she whispers, swallowing hard and getting onto her hands and knees. As slinky as she can manage, distracted as she is by sore knees and boiling hormones, she crawls over. The effort is clumsy but honest. "Now sit in a position where you'll be comfortable for awhile." Grabbing a spare pillow, I drop it in her lap and she squirms around to sit Indian-style on the offered pillow with her knees almost touching the edge of the bed. "Now lean over and put your wrists in the small of your back."

 

Something that might be alarm flashes in the mossy eyes and I stare her down. Once again I'm patient but unyielding. "Yes ma'am," she finally manages to squeak out hoarsely, curling up her spine so that I can reach out and slap the nylon and Velcro cuffs around her slender wrists. The snap hook clips the o-rings together and Lee gets her another taste of real bondage at my hand.

 

Negligently tossing my right leg over Lee's hunched body, I settle once more to my back to allow Sara to situate herself. In those moments, I blindly feel out with my right hand, carding though Lee's hair to tug her up to sit normally so that I can blindly caress her face. Hooking my left arm over Sara's thigh, I don't tease, pulling her wet pussy down to dive right in. 

 

It wasn't easy to teach Sara to be uninhibited, but years of hot and plentiful sex has taught me all her tricks. Whimpering and making a high-pitched stuttering sound that tells me volumes, she grinds her tense body against my tormenting mouth. 

 

Meanwhile, I've gently explored the line of Lee's jaw, tracing my thumb over her well-shaped mouth, unsurprised when the wandering digit is taken into the wet heat. Her soft moaning echoes through my flesh enticingly as I split my attention between them. Sara gets the bulk of my brainpower right now as I tease her with mouth and the occasional flash of teeth, but I rearrange my hand so that Lee's got my index and middle fingers to suckle on.

 

Sara starts to really get deep into the whirlpool of orgasm as her sounds get more guttural and expressive and her grip on the headboard goes white-knuckled. Meanwhile, Lee seems determined to chew my fingers clean off, eventually forcing me to grab her lower jaw with the rest of my hand and shake her skull a bit. But I keep my fingers gentle on her tongue and don't force them deep and possibly trigger off her gag reflex. Talk about a mood breaker! 

 

My unconscious snerk of humor is enough to ratchet Sara up the last few steps and a hard pull at her clit and a long growl makes her cry out brokenly, the earthquake of climax rumbling over her greyhound lines. Even as she rides it out, I stay glued to her, enjoying the changes in taste and heat, coaxing her as far as she can go.

 

It takes a couple minutes for her to wind down, groaning expressively as her body wants to sag brokenly. Chuckling, I use that anchoring left arm to help her flop boneless beside me, shivering with pleasure. My kisses are accepted with soft eagerness, her taste mixing between us. "Always so beautiful," I flatter sincerely and she smiles.

 

"Thank you, Daddy."

 

We're both amused by the short huffs of Lee's labored breathing and Sara does her best to swallow her chuckling as I wince. "Excuse me, Sunshine," I apologize and roll over to sit up, my right hand wrenching Lee's head so that she's looking up into my eyes. Ah, how wild and horny she looks! Frustrated hormones make her hips dance, and her hard teeth press into my abused fingers. Her tongue laves the soft webbing between my fingers, which is really hot, but I hide the reaction. Curling my fingers partially pries her jaws apart and gives some relief to my flesh. 

 

"What's the matter, Starling?" I taunt softly, staring deeply into her eyes, holding her captive in a different way. "Something on your mind?"

 

It amuses me greatly that she makes no attempt to speak around her mouthful, only reluctantly giving up my fingers when I pull. However, I cup her strong face in both hands, touching her grasping mouth with my two thumbs. No shock that she's orally responsive, with so much of her life focused on the orifice. There are tiny, soft little supplicating noises trying to escape and yet remain trapped in her throat. The woman's definitely intuitive as hell to me. I'm quite sure that my face is hungry, despite my efforts to school my expression. 

 

"Get up," I suddenly order and stand to step over her and carefully cup her elbows in my hands to pretty much pick her up. Grunting softly with the effort, Lee gets her obviously shaky legs under her and stands on her own. "Safewords, Starling, the rules haven't changed."

 

Oh sure, it's mean to hover distractingly at her back while she's trying to think, particularly breathing hotly on her bowed neck. First time she stutters the words, they're incoherent and I haul off and crack my hand across her ass before stepping back.

 

Clearing her throat roughly, Lee says them again, clearly this time, though her voice shakes. "Simone and Gabrielle."

 

Nodding, Sara repeats them back after I do, then we all trade mine. Lastly, Sara lolls on her side and intones her own. "DUI and Tamales."

 

The second word, Sara's old hometown, breaks and goes breathy as I smooth my hands over Lee's sides and belly, splaying my fingers over her midriff. Sara watches with interest as my roving hands tug Lee's shirt from her pants and stroke the soft skin beneath. Her hands are clenched into fists where they're trapped between us. "So, we're cool here? You like the audience, Starling?" I tease, hands skirting under the edge of the low-rider jeans to make her writhe. Abruptly stepping away, I address my girls matter-of-factly as I unclip the wrist cuffs from one another. "But it seems to me that all actors are exhibitionists of one stripe or the other."

 

Massaging the smaller woman's shoulders for a moment I work my way down her arms to the cuffs. Cradling the trapped wrist, I hold them where we can both look at the bondage on her skin. 

 

"You tell me if I go too far. I liked what we started last time and would like to take it farther."

 

"Yes ma'am," she says softly but clearly.

 

"Good girl," I congratulate and once more swat her rear. The small woman seems to find the gesture grounding I've noticed. "Arms up." In a swift motion her shirt's off and I press her over to stand with her back to Sara. "Basker, get that bra off and the two of you wait for a moment."

 

"Yes ma'am," trips over, "yes Daddy," making me grin.

 

On the dresser are a few props I collect and stuff into my jeans pockets or keep in my hands. When I turn, I am greeted by the surprising and sweet tableau of Sara smoothing curious hands over Lee's arched back. It's obvious the actress likes the touch, groaning low in her throat. Oh good, they get along okay. No Top wants their pets bristly at one another!

 

Sara pauses as she catches my eye, but picks up again with my smile and nod. Those sensitive, expressive hands rove the smaller woman's strong, slender back and arms, the touch sensual but not overtly sexual. Poor Lee is strung tight now!

 

My sudden hiss of pain makes them both look over in surprise and I could kick myself for my lousy timing. Transferring the handful of gear from right to left, I examine my dominant hand and chuckle ruefully. "I'm not surprised you're a biter, Starling, but damn!"

 

Even from several paces away I'm sure the darker women can see the red marks pressed into the base of my fingers from Lee's teeth. She flushes and Sara chuckles quietly.

 

"Bet I'll have bruises," I muse with no venom and Sara's laugh burbles out of her.

 

"Good thing you're not really as strong as Xena," she chortles and collapses back to the bed to shake with mirth. Lee's startled look makes me chuckle too, even as I worry that Lee will get thrown out of the burgeoning scene by the real life reference. "Sorry Daddy," Sara finally manages to giggle, sobering and sitting up again. 

 

"No apologies necessary, my dear, unless the songbird feels slighted."

 

Shaking her head slowly, Lee looks more confused than anything else. So I step in close and duck down the five-odd inches that separate us to kiss her gently but thoroughly. Almost instantly, she's responding wantonly, especially when I use my right hand to blindly coax Sara close. Lee jumps and squeals breathlessly as Sara nuzzles into the small of her back. "Oh fuck," stutters out high-pitched and needy.

 

"Such language," I tut mockingly, once more smoothing my hands over her belly to get to the fly of her jeans and yank it open. Something in her body language makes me pause, reaching out to gently push Sara's head back. "What's wrong?"

 

There's a conflict and confusion in the green-brown eyes as they flicker from my face and down to my upper chest. "I…"

 

No more words are forthcoming, but I understand now what's bothering her. Kissing her nose, I step away and strip off the autographed t-shirt, emblazoned with the markings of her job, as well as her own signature, and toss it negligently atop the growing pile of clothing. Between that and Sara's offhand remark, Lee's obviously disoriented. So I step up and cuddle her into my body, reaching back to caress Sara's face at the same time. 

 

Only a moment passes before Lee melts into the offer of succor, her arms twining around my waist and her body melting into mine. "Come lie down and relax," I murmur after a few long moments and soon she is cuddled between Sara and me. "That would have been a perfect place for your yellow word." The censure in my tone is very gentle.

 

"Sorry."

 

"Nothing to be sorry about, Lee. I didn't think about the shirt and I guarantee that Sara meant nothing by her funny remark."

 

"Oh, I know," Lee sighs and twists a bit so that she flick her gaze from my apologetic face to Sara's and back and forth. "Popularity is a two edged sword. It's changed my life so much and sometimes it jars me to remember that. Not just you two, but traveling through Times Square and seeing the marquis signs, hearing my own voice on the radio, getting accosted by strangers. At the same time, I love where I'm at. It's confusing."

 

Left vulnerable by her hormones and the scene created for her and Sara, my new pet is raw and defenseless. Do I take advantage? After all, her body is still simmering with sexual tension even as her mind roils. 

 

My conflict is solved by Lee's mouth gentle on my neck, her body starting to squirm between our larger ones. "Please," she whispers, "I didn't mean to break the mood. I'm all yours…"

 

With a firm note to self to keep a close eye out on her mood, I once more let my hands rove, coaxing at Sara to do the same. Few people have had the experience of multiple partners, particularly completely sober and deliberately planned out, but Lee seems unfazed. So much so, that Sara is slowly worshipping her way down the slimly muscled back. "Gonna make you sing, pretty bird," I croon to Lee, my hands and mouth busy on her skin. "Anything you've been fantasizing about? Hmmm?"

 

"Your…" her breathy voice cracks and she squirms, body rocking to the touches on her skin, "Fuck… Your hands on my ass drives me crazy. I've been smacked on the ass so many times for an audience that I forgot how good it should feel. You touch me like I matter and it's not something you have to do or you want to possess me or something. I love Jaye, but sometimes it's… it's…"

 

"I'm exotic to you, Starling," I purr, caressing over her belly, my hand wandering into the open v of her pants to caress her abdomen, slithering lower and lower. "That's a great part of my appeal. I'm not your ordinary life. Doesn't make you adore your life with Jaye any less. It's awesome that he's cool with this."

 

"Are you kidding," she giggles breathlessly, "you've done amazing things to our sex life."

 

Licking and gnawing gently at her perky tits, I push the jeans away, grateful when Sara's hands finish the job. Checking that Lee's nice and wet and ready, I caress over the hot, swollen terrain of her pussy before slithering a couple of fingers in. With me at her primary erogenous zones and Sara on her back and ass, it's a quick assent, her voice ratcheting to that broken, musical place that I remember.

 

While she's still panting, I get up and press her to her front, pulling her wrists to the top of the bed and grabbing the snap clip to connect the cuffs again. Changing my mind, I put both o-rings in one end of the clip and yank out the leather leash to clip it to the other end and tie the strap part to the headboard. In a few seconds, she's lashed down and I can plan my next move.

 

"Come be my assistant, Basker."

 

Handing my darker lover the thigh cuffs, I give her a kiss and swat her on the ass to send her back to the bed. Then I can collect rope and join her. Even as I start doing just a basic tie down, I explain myself to a woozy Lee.

 

"I'm going to restrain you, Starling. This is so that you get the full sensory experience of what I'm going to do to you. You will not be left alone at any time, nor will you be gagged. I use slip knots that can come loose with a quick jerk. But I want you not dwell on that and try to feel what it's like to be completely in my sway. Now, get up on your knees, shoulders on the bed."

 

It takes a moment for her to obey, but a swat gets her moving and leaves a nice imprint of my hand on her ass. From the D-ring on the left thigh cuff, I play out the sturdy cotton rope to tie it to the outermost rung of the headboard, then repeat the process with the right. Then I do the same between her feet, yanking the rope tight and tying off to the feet of the metal frame beneath the bed. That leaves the snap clip between the thigh cuffs absolutely tight between the four corners of the bed, and Lee has little room to move.

 

Perfect.

 

Satisfied with my work, I rub my hands together and smile at my girls. "Well then," I grin brightly, "Basker, get those clothes straightened up and then park your butt in that chair. You stay put until I tell you can move or you get a safeword."

 

"Yes Daddy."

 

"I'll be back in awhile. Sit tight!"

 

Once again, I walk out on a horny and dazed Lee, chortling to myself. It's nearly five am and I want to check in on my girls. The smaller bedroom is quiet and dark, but my eyes and ears have no problems adapting and I pad over to the twin bed beside the playpen. Sofia is curled protectively along my mate's back, draped all over the smaller woman. Catherine's eyes flicker open in the darkness and she smiles quirkily. 

 

"Hey there," I purr and lean over to nuzzle my mate before giving Sofia a peck on the cheek. "Came to see if the kittens are hungry. If they're not, I'll use the breast pump."

 

Humming a lazy affirmative, Catherine relaxes back into the bed, half asleep and half keeping an ear on we three Sentinels. As expected, Rose crowds the playpen, sprawled out with the twins draped all over her. But all three pairs of eyes blink open at my mama-cat trill. All three trill back, the calls almost bird-like, each of their voices just a bit different. 

 

"Hungry?" I ask with a smile and the twins reach up to be gently scooped up. There's hardly any room on my lap for them anymore! Sitting on the floor next to the playpen, I strip off the bra and enjoy my now twice-daily routine with my daughters. As always, their little hungry kitten noises soothe me, as does the feel of their little bodies, the heat of their skin and the tickle of their hair as I stroke their heads.

 

I'm half lulled to sleep by this sweet interaction by the time I feel the change in sensation in my breasts and the girls are drifting off. So I wrestle myself upright, holding their sleepy bodies to me for a long moment, just soaking them in. Only then do I return them to their patient Guide to snooze in a tangle of arms and legs. 

 

"G'nite my loves," I grin and creep to Catherine to kneel so that I can nuzzle up her face and steal a kiss. "G'nite darling."

 

"Mmm hmmm…" Cath hums, "night."

 

And I can slip away once more.


	9. Chapter 9

Lee makes an enticing tableau, upper body pressed to the bed, spine arched up to that ass, held high in the air. She's got her face pressed down between her stretched arms and obviously has no clue that I'm here. Sara watches me intently, but has intuitively remained completely silent.

 

I remain still until I hear a low moan from Lee, when I can glide over to stand at the foot of the bed, her sound covering the small whispery chime of the chains on my feet. Then I wait again for a moment as Lee's instincts start to wonder at the subtle signals I broadcast to the room. With sheer will, I project my presence to cause her fear and anticipation.

 

Then I growl.

 

Shrieking softly in shock, Lee yanks at her bonds, trying to see where I am. In a fluid series of movements, I step back with just my right foot to wrap my scarred hand around the handle of the flogger, whipping the thing forward even as I splay my left hand over the curve of her upturned ass. 

 

There are several things I love about floggers. First, I don't need quite the strength and precision that a whip requires. Oh, using a flogger isn't like beating someone with a nightstick, an experience I've had on the blue line, but it's not the rapier-like sting of a tasseled whip either. 

 

Slowing the flogger's downward swing for a moment splays out the full three dozen foot-long tails and they flatten over the entirety of Lee's ass and my hand. Yelping, she jumps and bucks like a startled filly, unable to do more than jerk impotently at the bonds.

 

"Gotcha," I chortle darkly, using that left hand to steady her.

 

"Fuck, you scared the hell out of me," Lee growls breathlessly as I raise my hand from her skin to admire the flush of reaction on her. It takes more effort than that one semi-gentle hit to mark someone with a flogger, but I swear I can almost see the imprint of my hand. I guarantee that she can feel it! Watching Lee's glowering left eye, her head twisted around as best she can, I grin evilly and shake the flogger's tails at her.

 

(the flogger: [http://www.stockroom.com/Leerskin-Flogger-P1473.aspx](http://www.stockroom.com/Deerskin-Flogger-P1473.aspx) )

 

"Ready now?"

 

But I don't hit her again, merely trailing the tickly angle-cut tails over her startled skin briefly before stepping away again. Popping the lid on the skin-safe anti-bacterial wipes, I yank one out and stand at Lee's hip. The cold, damp edge of the square of material teases over her pink-flushed cheeks, making her squirm, before I wrap it around my hand and wipe down the full length of the crack of her ass.

 

Lee jumps and makes that sound of outraged pleasure again. She cracks me up in her fierce reactions and determined obedience. Particularly when I pause to run the little wipe over the tense rosebud of her asshole, pressing with my fingertip, curious exactly what reaction I'll get.

 

Better than I expected as she softens and groans.

 

Excellent.

 

"You like that," it's a statement, not a question, as my fingertip grows more friendly, tickling just inside the tight opening. Lee's back arches and she moans again. "Hold that thought."

 

A quick trip to the bathroom to scrub my hands and I return, wiping off with a clean hand towel, plotting my next move. 

 

"You have a wonderfully sensitive ass, Starling," I comment conversationally and pad over to check on Sara. My kiss is accepted with a smile, as is the gentle caress of my hand over her curves. "You okay?" I mouth at her and she nods, settling more comfortably into the padded chair as I kiss her quickly and go back to my new girl. "Let's see what else we can do with that sensitivity, eh?"

 

From my piles of crap, I retrieve a squeeze bottle of gel lube that doesn't soften with heat, a package of dental dams and several latex gloves before retrieving a small butt plug and a condom to cover it with.

 

"You're in for a treat, songbird," I chuckle, dropping the supplies between her calves and picking up the flogger. Now that I've scrubbed her with the antibacterial wipes, I'm not concerned for the porous deerskin leather and I can give that fine ass a couple of good swishes with the mass of narrow tails. Lee jumps and groans and shakes her ass, but makes no objection to the light whipping. "Good girl. You took that well." My praise is heightened by once more the devilish tickle of all the tails snaking over her skin. "Now, we'll try something different."

 

Yipping like a startled dog from the cold blob of lube dropped on her vulnerable asshole, Lee squirms and I snicker. Then I carefully lay a dam over the spot, letting the lube glue it to her skin. Carefully kneeling over her trapped legs, I balance on my left hand while holding the dam in place with the right.

 

The first slither of my tongue between Lee's asscheeks makes her buck and startle, groaning heavily. "What…" she husks breathlessly, "what are you doing?"

 

Humming contentedly, I trace the shape of this vulnerable place with that sensitive, wet muscle. While I don't care for the flavor of the dams, it's better than the anti-bac wipes and I don't have to worry about cleanliness as the play will get more and more involved now.

 

As Lee's guttural noises get more intense, I focus in on the tight sphincter to lave attention there. Oh she's into this now! After she's gotten good and horny from these new sensations, I seal my whole mouth to the dam and suck hard, transferring the pressure to the flesh below. When my tongue tickles in the middle of the pressure, her feet start kicking at the bed and her cussing increases in volume and enthusiasm. Holding myself up with my right wrist for a moment where it lays over the curve of her ass, I reach up the left to pinch her labia and make her cry out. Then I tickle into the wetness, running my blunt thumbnail over her erect clit.

 

But there's more I want to do to her and I deliberately leave her hanging. Besides, it amuses me to piss her off. "Bitch for a minute, pussycat," I chuckle and climb off the bed to go and gather up a smiling and hungry Sara for a hug. "How'm I doin'?"

 

With comical thoughtfulness, Sara looks over at Lee, squirming and whining on the bed. "She seems pretty well marinated to me, Daddy. It's hard to believe that she's never had anyone on her asshole before."

 

Grinning wickedly, knowing that Lee's hanging on every word, I cuddle Sara close, our bodies swaying to that soundless music we feel rather than hear. "Yeah, bet she's never had someone in there either. Think she's ready to be fucked to squalling like a cat in heat?"

 

"I know I would be."

 

Kissing Sara again, I leave her standing there chuckling as I bounce over to the bed while scooping up the towel that's still damp from washing my hands. Yanking away the slippery dental dam and mopping her off with the small towel, I toss them aside and pick up the flogger.

 

"Simone."

 

Instantly, I drop the toy and unsnap the clip holding Lee's arms stretched out to physically help her straighten up. "I gotcha, Lee, just relax," I croon in the tone that Lindsey and the triplets taught me. But Lee's hand on my arms stops my fretting.

 

"Dace, I'm okay. I was just getting really sore. That's an awkward position. Could you loosen that leash up so that I can get up on my hands if I need to?"

 

She's so matter of fact about this that I immediately calm with a grin. "A perfect use for your yellow word."

 

A sly grin warms the woman's face. "Yeah, well, I have a good teacher."

 

Still, I hold her for a moment, rubbing her shoulders as she leans into my torso. "Your knees holding up?"

 

"I'll be okay for awhile," she sighs and then smiles mischievously. "What are you going to do to me?"

 

Crouching, I run my hand over her ass, reminding her of what she had been feeling before the break. "I want to fuck you eventually, give this fine ass a real treat. Maybe with Sara sucking your clit?" The green eyes darken like wet sand at the suggestions and my smile deepens. "In the meantime, I have a small butt plug waiting for your association. You ready?"

 

"Oh, yes ma'am," she breathes and slithers down to rest on her hands, back arching to offer up that lovely ass.

 

"Brace yourself, Starling," I growl, "I'm going to warm you up with the flogger."

 

There's a unique sound of leather on human skin, but deer hide in particular. It's a dull, almost liquid noise as the mass of tails splat over her flesh, gradually warming her to a lovely rosy blush. There's little force to my blows, just enough to really feel it, and the pressure is never exactly the same. Lee groans along with the lick of leather over her skin, jumping and squalling as I reverse the swing, coming up instead of down, the tails nipping into the lower curves of her ass and the swollen lips of her pussy. 

 

God I hope there's enough space and wall thickness that I'm not disturbing my clan-mates…

 

Slapping the flogger onto Lee's back only just hard enough to feel, I leave the tails splayed all over her shoulders and the handle lying along her lower spine. "Feel that, songbird? Got your skin all warmed up now, hmmm?"

 

She only whimpers in response as I rub my palms and scrape blunt fingernails over her pinkened ass. A quick few moves has more lube against her quivering asshole, a condom on the toy and I'm tickling at that forbidden hole with the thing.

 

"Relax, Starling. I won't hurt you."

 

It doesn't take much coaxing for the toy to slowly slide home, Lee grunting and cursing colorfully. Pressing my thumb to the flared base of the plug and rocking it really makes her jump and dance, voice going strangled. Satisfied with her arousal level, I pull the Velcro on the thigh cuffs with that characteristic ripping sound. 

 

"Lie down," I instruct, pressing on her left hip to assist Lee's shaky body to flop over and then onto her back. "Come here, Basker. Keep her warmed up, won't you, darling?" Pressing Sara to the bed, I leave her to do what she will and move to once more restrain Lee's cuffed wrists to the leash tied to the headboard. It's sweet to watch Sara curiously stroking and mouthing over Lee's torso, her touch gentle and kittenish. "Good girl," I croon softly, nuzzling Sara's dark hair before turning my attention to our companion's skin. With me on her upper chest and Sara kissing her muscled midriff, Lee is writhing and muttering again. 

 

Particularly when me and my girl meet in the middle, lovingly torturing Lee's nipples, our hands wandering over her lower body. 

 

Pressing at Sara to stay put, I wander kisses over Lee's lower body, enjoying the flat girl muscles under her silky skin. Last time I fucked this girl, I couldn't do this in the interest of safety. Frankly, I've waited damn long enough to get her thighs around my ears and my mouth in her deepest heat. With little preamble, I snuggle down between her legs and dive right in. 

 

Like kissing someone new, oral sex is different and similar every time. With one arm around her hips and the other reaching low to once more wiggle the butt plug; I'm left with mouth only to get her sex drive into orbit. Not that this is a problem. Nuzzling in between the neatly-trimmed nap of dark pubes, I find my reward. Hot and tasty, I enjoy her thoroughly and burrow in to get the whole effect. Then, with thumb holding the plug tight to its place and mouth on her hard clit, I tuck in a couple of fingers deep into the clutch of Lee's pussy and hang on tight around her writhing hips.

 

That does it!

 

Her grip on my skull is every bit as crushing as I'd hoped, making me scoff in amusement and her squeals to go squeaky and soprano. Pulsing and crescendoing, Lee does her best to wake the whole building and twist my head off. My growl makes her jump and writhe, her quaking thighs wrenching my head almost painfully. With eyes gone gold, I manhandle her into submission, rising over her body like the cougar I bear such a close ties to.

 

Submissively, Sara flattens to the bed, for she knows this part of me well. But the mossy green-brown eyes of my new pet round and her breath strangles in her throat. The reaction reminds me of Darya and my mouth curls into a predatory grin. 

 

But once again, Lee surprises me, those extraordinary eyes narrowing and something akin to a low growl in her throat. Seems I've tapped into her inner beast. Interesting…

 

"Let me up," she whines, tugging at the wrist cuffs, fingers scrabbling. "Please!"

 

Those strong legs wrap around my hips where I hover over her prone body, heels digging into my ass to rub there enticingly. 

 

"Why should I?" I tease meanly, grinding my denim-clothed crotch against the burn that obviously still has her in its thrall. "After all, you're being awfully bossy and demanding."

 

Groaning heavily, eyes rolled back, Lee's hips rock into mine like a true wonton slut. "Please," she chants hoarsely as though unaware she's doing it and now I'm real damn curious what she'll do. So, I reach up and unlatch the cuff, gripping the double ended clip tight in my fist, feeling her muscles fight me.

 

"Lie still," I growl and she whines in protest, trembling as she forces obedience. It takes a long handful of moments for her to ease back, legs dropping away from their death grip and her arms to stop fighting my grip. "Good girl." Only with her submission do I free her and lay back to let my pets attack me. Sara only requires a few sharp tugs at the nape of her neck to get involved, assisting Lee's desperate attack on my person.

 

I'll have bruises tomorrow…

 

Quickly, Lee realizes that she can learn from Sara and she slows, forcing patience even as she growls under her breath. I kiss and caress them both, allowing the climax to wash over body, brain and heart. Petting and soothing these dear women, I tuck them along my sides to cuddle them tight to my taller body. Snuffling first into Lee's silky mane, then Sara's, I imprint them on me again, savoring the smell and feel of them. They nuzzle back, Lee giggling and Sara making an aggrieved dog sound at her new bedmate's curious poking and touching.

 

Smiling, I clamp the base of Lee's skull in my hand, roughly massaging the powerful tendons there. Even as Sara grows heavy with sleep, Lee begins to unwind, the spastic energy reducing to a low simmer, her body growing heavy and hot.

 

At some point during the day, my bladder drags me from the bed and I use the excuse to check in on Catherine and the girls. Only Sandy stirs, gurgling sleepily before settling beneath my caressing hand. A kiss on Katie's forehead makes her jerk and settle even more deeply into sleep. Catherine smiles and comes half-awake, settling as I kiss her gently.

 

"Love you," I murmur and she hums something positive-sounding back at me. Since Sofia's not here, I'm guessing that she was dragged out on some family outing. Catherine will come get me if she needs help with the girls and I slip away quietly.

 

Even in the air-conditioned building, I can feel the damp heat and the shower calls to me. Since the dark-haired lumps in the bed appear unmoving, I'll take some time to myself, simply because I can.

 

In the cool/warm spray of the shower, I'm reminded that I have no solitude in my life. Between my big pack and my kids and my job, quiet moments alone are an extremely rare treat. Humming in my horrible singing voice while I bathe, a bad habit I've picked up from Tessa, I take my time in this simple pleasure. 

 

There's a part of me that wants to keep the solitude as I towel off and brush my teeth before slipping into the bedroom. Perhaps I'll read a book or sit out on the fire escape and watch the city around me. But the urge is weak and the bed calls to me. It's too early to be active and I really need to grab what sleep I can at every opportunity.

 

To my enormous amusement, Lee has scootched across the mattress to drape herself along Sara's taller body like a human leech. My new girl is definitely a cuddler! But what impresses me is that Sara has obviously taken no notice of this. This is highly unusual, as Sara's colorful history has left her hyper aware of who is around her and wary of unknown presences. Obviously something in Lee has moved past those deeply ingrained survival instincts and earned Sara's trust.

 

Their intertwined smells are musky and sensual and sleepy, the tang of our earlier friskiness and healthy girl sweat a lovely bouquet in my nostrils. It's more than enough to draw me back to the big bed, roughly toweling the worst of the wet from my hair before crawling in to cuddle up against Lee's back. Her sleepy, kittenish protest to my cool skin makes me smile and press my nose into her hair, reaching over her to stroke my hand over Sara's ribs to lay my fingers on her belly.

 

Their warmth quickly lulls me to sleep once more.

 

Nuzzling at my neck wakes me slowly from the depths of a black sleep, a smile curling my mouth at the familiar touch. A lazy inhalation confirms that my brunettes are gone and it is my mate breathing over my neck and ear. "I see that they didn't break you," Catherine chuckles as I reach over my head to touch her hair and ear.

 

"Just spindled me a bit in the mail," I sass and lazily roll over to watch the evening sun turn Catherine's hair more red than blonde. "I've missed you."

 

She makes a dismissive noise, but is obviously pleased at my words, draping her smaller body over mine. "I had Sofia, so I don't feel neglected. But thank you anyway, dear. Lee dragged Sara and Sofia off to go jogging in Central Park." Abruptly sniggering in amusement, she settles her head against my upper chest. "You should have heard the negotiations with Sara. She whined and put up a fight, but your new pet won in the end. And Sofia was happy to get away from the clan and run."

 

"Right up her alley," I agree placidly, cuddling her with real pleasure. "This is nice. Just you and me. It's been a long time."

 

"Yep. Happens where there's babies around. I take it that Lee helping wear you out has been good for you?" She chortles to herself. "You didn't so much as stir until I kissed your neck. It's not often I can sneak up on you."

 

"Not to mention they snuck out without waking me," I agree easily, enjoying that I remained sleeping through the movements of my pack and the sweet new girl we all seem to like. "I came out after showering earlier and Lee had plastered herself all over Sara, who was obviously still asleep."

 

"Hmmm," Cath hums thoughtfully and props herself on her elbows to look into my eyes. "That's unusual. Sara being so trusting in her sleep."

 

"I thought so too."

 

"But, then again, you didn't see them earlier, with Lee following Sara around like an adoring puppy."

 

Giggling with amusement we press closer, noses nestled together, mouths brushing. The scent of this singular woman surrounds me and soothes me. Heck, I even manage to steal a few lazy, sweet kisses before the kittens call stridently for attention.

 

"Duty calls," I sigh dramatically and Catherine chuckles even as she kisses me deeply for a moment before we return to the cubs of our pack. After Cath stands and stretches, I go to my suitcase to yank out drawstring pants and a tank top. Quickly dressing, I pad past where Cath is making herself a mug of coffee in the main room and affectionately swat her ass.

 

In the smaller bedroom, both Katie and Sandy are plastered to the rails of their heavy-duty playpen, squealing delightedly when I bound in to 'rar' playfully at them. We growl and laugh together as I scoop them up, draping Katie over my shoulders and tossing Sandy on the bed to pounce on her and tickle her. Soon we are in a full-blown tangle of their aggressive little bodies scrabbling and pulling at me, still so determined to climb! My job is to keep them from falling off the bed in their single-minded efforts and cheer them on, despite the bite of their baby nails. Catherine stands in the doorway and laughingly eggs us on. 

 

I have no idea that the others have returned until the smell of food distracts me away from the antics of my daughters. Only then do I hear the quiet babble of voices and the movement of adult bodies in the room beyond. 

 

"Come on, monkeys," I enthuse, hoisting a child under each arm to drag them into the living room. There is an outrageous feast of savory things spread over the big coffee table in take-out containers. It's a cloud of wonderful smells that makes the girls stop wiggling for the moment as they take it in. "Heads up, Fetch," I warn and toss Sandy into Sofia's waiting arms so that the girls can each have a grown-up helping them eat. With an affectionate kiss to the sweaty crowns of my brunettes, I plop down onto the floor and pin Katie in place by trapping a leg among mine, so I can feed her and myself with little danger of curious little hands yanking the dishes to the floor.

 

"Good grief, you three," I marvel at the abundance of food. "How many places did you get take out from anyway?"

 

Lee and Sofia share a sheepish glance and giggle like little girls. Sara rolls her eyes and deadpans, "four." Then they all burst out laughing and I'm warmed by the obvious camaraderie. "You have to come see Central Park, Dace," Sara enthuses as she ravages a plate of pad thai, a steaming pile of what I think are green beans and eggplant lasagna. "It's absolutely gorgeous."

 

"I still can't believe you went to Harvard for three fu…" Embarrassed at the sharp looks she gets, Lee swallows the vulgarity and continues. "Frickin' years and never visited long enough to go to Central Park."

 

"Nerd, what can I say?" Sara shrugs casually and smirks at Lee's playful bumping shoulders with her. Their ease really is remarkable and I can't swallow my grin, shaking my head when they give me stereo, 'what' looks.

 

"You kept up though," Sofia teases. "At least mostly. Not bad for a lab rat."

 

The wad of napkin bounces off of her head and we all laugh together, the girls squealing along to the merriment.

 

It feels like a beginning.

 

It really does.

 

 

THE END… FOR NOW!


End file.
